Lead Me Through the Fire
by Kira 47
Summary: The alternate timeline from Endgame. What happened during Voyager's journey home that drove Admiral Janeway to change the past, present and future as she knew it?
1. Part One: 2379

DISCLAIMER: Paramount's, not mine. If only. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Contrary to my usual rule, I'm starting to publish chapters of this story before I've finished writing it. As a result, you'll probably have to bear with me between chapters as life and writer's block take their toll. Encouragement, as always, will doubtless speed the process. Enjoy. 

**Lead Me Through the Fire**

**Part One**

_Heaven bend to take my hand  
And lead me through the fire  
Be the long awaited answer  
To a long and painful fight  
Truth be told I've tried my best  
But somewhere 'long the way,  
I got caught up in all there was to offer,  
And the cost was so much more than I could bear _

We believe that we could change ourselves  
That the past can be undone  
But we carry on our back the burden time always reveals  
In the lonely light of morning  
In the wound that would not heal  
It's the bitter taste of losing everything  
That I've held so dear 

-Sarah McLachlan, "Fallen" 

..... 

_Personal log, Admiral Kathryn Janeway, Stardate 80986.5. _

I don't know why I'm making this recording. If I fail, this log will be pointless. If I succeed, none of what I'm about to relate will ever have happened and this log will cease to exist. And so will I, or at least the person that I am right now... in which case, I will never have been moved to bring about the changes that altered the timeline. 

I hate temporal paradoxes. I can already feel a headache coming on. 

Even though this log will never matter, I feel I need to do this. To explain why I'm doing what I'm doing, even if there isn't anyone there to hear it. 

Thirty-three years ago, I made a decision that stranded two crews seventy thousand lightyears from home. I don't regret that decision, at least not now... but there are other things, other decisions, that I do regret. It took twenty-three years and the lives of nearly a third of my crew to get home. 

But it didn't have to. And when I'm finished, it won't. 

Twenty-six years ago.... that's when things started to go wrong. And it was all because of the Borg.... 

..... 

"We can't just give up on those wormholes!" 

Kathryn Janeway pressed her lips together firmly. She could hear seven years of disappointed hopes and missed opportunities in the voice of her operations officer. It took tremendous effort to keep her voice steady and commanding. "Oh yes, we can." 

Harry Kim's eyes darted back and forth, searching for a solution, refusing to give up. "What if we try to modify --" 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kim," she interrupted, her tone firm but gentle. "You may be the captain someday... but not today." 

A heavy silence hung over the briefing room. The image of the nebula swarming with Borg cubes was still fresh in the minds of the senior staff. 

"Dismissed," said Janeway quietly. She turned her back to the window to avoid seeing the expressions on their faces as they slowly filed out of the room. 

She heard the doors to the briefing room slide shut with a soft hiss, but she knew she wasn't alone. Her eyes remained fixed on the nebula in the distance for several seconds before she glanced over her shoulder at her first officer. 

He raised his eyebrow at her. She shook her head slightly, and he nodded in resignation and left her alone to stare at the nebula and contemplate what might have been, but for the Borg. 

..... 

The turbolift was silent except for the gentle undulating hum as it slid between the decks of the ship, the four occupants lost in thought. Harry, his arms crossed and a sullen expression on his face, was staring at the floor grimly. Tom next to him appeared lost in his own thoughts as well, albeit more pleasant ones than Harry. Tuvok and Seven of Nine maintained their usual stoic silence, staring ahead at the turbolift doors. 

Several more decks passed without a word. When the lift slowed and the doors opened, Tom stepped out and started down the corridor. The doors began to slide shut, but after a moment's hesitation, Harry started out of his reverie and stepped quickly out the doors before they closed, chasing after Tom. 

"Astrometrics," said Seven, and the lift began moving again. When Tuvok remained silent, she turned and asked, "Is that your destination as well, Commander?" 

Tuvok seemed as startled as a Vulcan could be. It was a few seconds before he nodded. 

Seven frowned, curious. It was unusual to see Tuvok this preoccupied. "Commander, may I ask you something?" 

"Of course." 

"Do you agree with the captain's decision?" 

He frowned slightly in disapproval. After a moment, he said, "I believe it would be unwise to attempt to re-enter the nebula." 

The turbolift stopped and the pair began moving down the corridor in the direction of Astrometrics. "The captain's goal is to return Voyager to the Alpha Quadrant," said Seven matter-of-factly as they walked. "There may be thousands of wormholes inside the nebula. You do not believe that it would have been worth an attempt, despite the risks?" 

"I do not." 

"You believe Voyager would be assimilated." 

"It is illogical to dwell on a decision that has already been made," he replied, avoiding the question. 

"If you spoke with the captain, perhaps she would change her mind about entering the nebula." 

They had reached Astrometrics. "I was not under the impression that you were eager to return to the Alpha Quadrant, Seven." 

"I... am not," said Seven, taken by surprise. "I was merely attempting to understand why you supported the captain's decision when you wish to return to the Alpha Quadrant." 

"I supported the captain's decision because she is the captain." 

Seven raised an eyebrow but made no reply. Tuvok glanced inside Astrometrics, then stepped back from the door. "If you will excuse me, I have security reports to complete." 

Seven watched him move away from her down the hallway, a puzzled expression on her face. 

..... 

Captain Janeway strode onto the bridge with a confidence in her step she didn't entirely feel. "Helm, resume course," she said, her tone lacking none of its usual command. 

"Aye, Captain," said Ensign Jenkins softly. 

Word of their latest encounter with the Borg had likely spread through the ship like a plasma fire, thought Janeway as she looked around at the melancholy faces of the bridge crew. Doubtless it had been accompanied by news of the discovery of wormholes within the nebula. Yet another opportunity lost. 

"I'll be in my ready room," she said finally. She could feel the eyes of the bridge officers on her. 

Chakotay immediately rose from his seat. "Want a hand with those crew reports?" 

She opened her mouth to decline but was overcome by a sudden desire for companionship. She nodded, and he followed her silently into the ready room. 

Moving around her desk, she sat limply in her chair. She leaned back and pinched the bridge of her nose, a gesture so familiar it was almost involuntary. Opening her eyes after a few seconds, she looked at the large stack of PADDs on one corner of her desk and sighed. She reached for the first one, but Chakotay gently put his hand on her arm to stop the motion. "Kathryn...." 

"Let me guess. You didn't actually want to discuss the crew reports." 

He smiled but was watching her closely. "There's no fooling you." 

She stared at him, waiting for the question she knew was coming. 

"Are you all right?" 

"Going into that nebula would have been suicide, Chakotay. I know, I know," she added quickly, holding up her hand as he opened his mouth to speak. "It could also have been our best chance in seven years to get back to the Alpha Quadrant. But as much as I want to get this crew home, it's too great a risk." 

"And yet...?" 

"There is no 'and yet,' Chakotay. Not this time. I know we've faced the Borg before, but not like this. Even in Unimatrix One we had the Hansens' stealth technology, but they've long since adapted to that. Voyager's a good ship, but she wouldn't last long enough for us to find the right wormhole. Not with those odds. I won't take that kind of risk." 

"We'll manage. We'll find another way home." 

"My grandfather always used to say, 'when one door closes, a window opens.'" She sighed. "Have I been missing the windows, Chakotay?" 

"The Kathryn Janeway I know wouldn't wait for someone to open a window for her -- she'd take a phaser and blast one herself." 

She smiled. "I'll keep that in mind." She turned back to the work in front of her, and taking his cue Chakotay rose and left her alone. As the doors shut behind him, she let the PADD she was reading drop back on the desk and shut her eyes. _There will be other days,_ she told herself. _I'll get this crew home._

..... 

Four cubes destroyed. Another seven badly damaged. Four hundred twelve thousand, six hundred and fifty four Borg dead. 

Unacceptable. The thought resonated through the Borg Collective. 

An incalculable number of neurons firing randomly, all connected to each other, paused for a fraction of a second. When they began firing again, they had been given a direction. Trillions of minds worked as one, calculating risks, outcomes, and probabilities. 

The Borg Queen's eyes snapped open as her torso was connected to her mechanical body. She inhaled deeply, feeling her drones respond to her consciousness as easily as the limbs now under her direct control. 

"This threat must be eliminated. Their resistance will be futile," she said to the empty chamber. Her words echoed through every mind in the Collective. "We must assimilate more information." 

The Collective agreed. 

The Queen's eyes lit up with demonic pleasure uncharacteristic of the automatons under her direction as she ordered three cubes from the nearest sector to intercept Voyager. 

..... 

Harry Kim waited patiently for the turbolift in the corridor of deck four before his morning shift. He brought his coffee cup to his lips and was just about to take a sip when something hit him on the back, hard. Thrown forward, he accidentally swallowed a rather large gulp of coffee. He coughed loudly and turned around to see Tom standing behind him with a large grin on his face. 

"Mornin', Harry." 

Harry's eyes narrowed as he wiped coffee off the front of his uniform. "You're in a good mood this morning." 

"What's not to be in a good mood about?" asked Tom as they stepped into the turbolift. "Bridge." 

Harry grinned in understanding. "No false alarms last night?" 

"Not a single one. That's the first night of uninterrupted sleep I've had in a week." 

Harry's grin widened. "I hope you enjoyed it. Might be your last for a very, very long time." 

Tom was unphased. "Harry, Harry, Harry," he admonished as they stepped off the turbolift on to the bridge, "nothing is going to ruin my good mood this morning." 

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the lights on the bridge darkened and the pulsing alarm of a red alert sounded. Harry turned to his friend with a raised eyebrow. "Oh yeah?" 

"Report," barked Captain Janeway, striding out of her ready room. 

"Two Borg cubes have just dropped out of transwarp two thousand kilometers to port," reported Tuvok as Harry and Tom took their stations. 

"Ready weapons," she ordered as she took her seat. "Evasive maneuvers." 

"They're closing fast," said Tom as he tried in vain to evade the much larger oncoming ships. 

The bridge crew was braced for the impact of the first torpedo, but not the two that followed immediately after. The bulkheads reverberated under their feet. 

"Shields at 78 percent," reported Tuvok. The two cubes swept past Voyager and loomed on the viewscreen. 

"Return fire," snapped Janeway. 

The torpedoes sailed from Voyager's underbelly and impacted harmlessly against the sides of the metal behemoths that were again drawing closer. Another volley of torpedoes sailed towards the small Starfleet vessel and pounded sequentially against the shields. 

"We could try to outrun them at warp," suggested Chakotay. 

The captain shook her head, a stray piece of hair swinging out of place. She brushed it out of the way. "We'd only end up burning out the engines." 

Another series of concussions rocked the ship, throwing the command team to their knees. 

"Shields are at 57 percent," said Tuvok. "Structural integrity is holding." 

"Mr. Paris!" snapped the captain as Chakotay helped her to her feet. 

"I'm trying! They're too close for me to keep us out of the line of fire." 

A shower of sparks exploded from the roof of the bridge. The main lights flickered for a few seconds before the bridge was plunged into semi-darkness. 

"We've lost main power," said Harry. "I can't bring auxiliary online." 

"Janeway to Engineering." 

There was no answer. 

"Engineering, please respond." 

"The comm's down." 

"Get it back, Harry." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

The ship began to jerk rhythmically around them as the two cubes peppered Voyager with torpedoes. 

Tuvok frowned as an alarm beeped on his console. "Captain, I am detecting another Borg ship approaching." 

Captain Janeway pressed her lips into a tight line but said nothing as she turned the situation over in her head. 

Chakotay stepped closer so that he was standing just over her shoulder. "We can't outmaneuver three of them," he said quietly. 

The floor shifted under them and he grabbed her arm to steady her. "We can't even outmaneuver two of them," she replied, an undercurrent of tension in her voice. 

Two of the torpedoes struck the shields at the same time, sending a violent shockwave through every bulkhead of the ship and throwing the command team violently to the floor. 

The captain pulled herself to her feet, slower than the last time and wincing as she put weight on her left ankle. "Report!" 

"Weapons are down," said Tuvok, his eyes searching his console. "Forward shields are at 27 percent... aft shields are down... hull breach on deck six." 

"The comm?" 

After a few seconds, Harry nodded. "I've rerouted it to emergency power." 

"Good work. Bridge to engineering -- report." 

_Engineering here, Captain,_ came the voice of Lieutenant Nicolletti over the comm. _The antimatter injector is offline... we're dead in the water._

"How long until we have warp?" asked Chakotay. 

_It could take hours to repair._

"Options?" demanded Captain Janeway, looking around the bridge. 

"There is a class five asteroid field twenty-five million kilometers away," reported Seven. "It has high concentrations of thalium which should impair the Borg sensors, at least temporarily." 

"If we landed and reduced our energy signature," said Harry, "we'd be all but invisible to their sensors." 

She nodded curtly. "Janeway to Engineering -- I don't care how you do it, but I need ten seconds of warp power." 

_Captain, the --_

"Just do it," she ordered. 

There was a short pause. _Aye, Captain._

The captain moved towards the helm, stumbling as Voyager was hit with another Borg volley. "Tom, I need you to keep us in one piece until we can jump to warp." 

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, taking Voyager into a wide sweeping turn to avoid another slew of Borg torpedoes. 

_Sickbay to Lieutenant Paris,_ hailed the Doctor. _I think you should come down here._

"I know you have casualties, Doctor," interrupted Janeway, the stress of the battle starting to tell in the edge in her voice, "but you'll have to make due without Tom for now." 

_It's B'Elanna. She's in labour._

All the colour drained from Tom's face and instant silence fell on the bridge. "Is she okay?" he demanded. "And the baby?" 

_Aside from the expected discomfort and the unfortunate timing, they're both doing fine._

Tom looked back down at his console, torn between his wife and unborn daughter and his duty. He felt the captain's hand on his shoulder, and knew why. After several seconds, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Keep me informed, Doc. I'm... needed here." 

_Of course._

Captain Janeway gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze then wordlessly turned and moved back towards her seat. Trying to conceal his inner turmoil, Tom brought his focus back to the job at hand, using every inch of power he could muster from the engines to keep Voyager out of the reach of the Borg cubes. 

..... 

Lieutenant Nicolletti banged her fist against the console in frustration. "Dammit! Tabor, try again." 

The young Bajoran engineer shook his head. "It's no good, Lieutenant." 

Her hand resting on the console began to tremble. She removed it and clenched a fist. She wasn't supposed to be in this mess. She wasn't supposed to be the one making these decisions. 

She turned to Ensign Vorik, working diligently but calmly at the console next to her. "Vorik, I'm going to inject the antimatter manually. You're in charge." 

His eyebrows rose. "That would be highly dangerous." 

"It's also highly necessary." 

"Perhaps you should check with Captain Janeway before --" 

"We don't have time for that. When the core comes online, you'll only have about fifteen seconds of warp, so move quickly." 

She began to move towards a nearby access ladder, and Vorik followed. "Lieutenant --" 

She turned, her jaw set and her expression determined. "Look, Vorik... this needs to be done, and I'm... I'm not ordering somebody else to do it." Her expression softened. "If B'Elanna or Joe were here, you know they'd be doing the exact same thing. But they're not, so it's up to us to get it done." 

He considered her for several seconds. "Be careful, Lieutenant." 

She nodded with a small smile. "I'll try." 

With that, she climbed began climbing down the ladder, being careful to maintain a solid grip in case of a sudden jolt. When she reached the bottom, she sprinted for the controls to the antimatter injector and removed the safety cover. She stared at the complex machinery for a moment before she gripped the lever. With her free hand, she hit her commbadge. "Nicolletti to bridge... prepare to jump to warp." 

_Acknowledged,_ responded Tom. 

"Assuming this works," she muttered to herself. Taking a deep breath, she gripped the large red lever solidly and then pulled down with all her weight. 

..... 

"We've got warp," said Tom. 

"Get us out of here," ordered Janeway. 

The command had barely passed her lips when Voyager jumped to warp. The stars on the viewscreen merged into a kaleidoscope of light for a few seconds before the warp engines died again and the ship was jolted back into normal space. 

"Report." 

"It was sufficient," reported Seven. "The asteroid field is directly ahead." 

"Tom, take us in, full impulse, then kill the engines and double back on thrusters. That should confuse them, at least temporarily." 

"Aye, Captain." 

"Seven, start scanning for a stable asteroid where we can set the ship down. I have a feeling the Borg aren't going to give up easily... chances are we'll be stuck here for a while." 

"Aye, Captain." 

"We should evacuate all personnel to crucial areas," suggested Chakotay, "and shut down life support on the remaining decks." 

"That won't be enough," said Harry grimly. "The thalium isn't quite as dense as we thought... we'll have to shut down all power or their sensors might pick us up." 

Tom turned away from the helm and stared at his friend with a horrified expression. "What about Sickbay?" 

Harry looked at the Captain, then back at Tom. "It has to be everything, Tom," he said slowly. "Doc can manage on an emergency generator." Tom opened his mouth as if to object, but returned to his piloting without saying a word. 

"We won't be able to hold out more than three or four hours without life support," Chakotay observed quietly to the Captain. 

"And we won't be able to make much progress on repairs with only emergency generators," she replied, her expression tense. "But we don't have a choice." She sighed. "We'll just have to hope the Borg get tired of looking for us before then." 

"I believe I've found a suitable landing site," said Seven, interrupting the command team's hushed conversation. 

Tom snorted. "You sure can pick 'em, Seven." 

"You've always said you could land a ship on a dime," smirked Harry, glad for the momentary relief of tension. 

"A dime?" asked Seven, confused. 

"Never mind," said Harry. 

"Mr. Paris?" queried the captain, interrupting the exchange. 

"I might scrape a little paint off the hull, but I can land her." 

"Then do it." She took her seat, then added: "And Mr. Paris, if you so much as put a scratch on my ship I'll send you out in a environmental suit to repaint her." 

He smiled wryly. After the beating they had just taken from the Borg cubes, he could only imagine what kind of a mess the exterior of the ship was in. "Yes, ma'am." 

Harry's console beeped. "Our friends just got here. We should have at least a minute or two before they figure out that our ion trail is a dead end." 

"Tom, get us down, now." 

"Aye, Captain." Skipping half of the items on Starfleet's recommended procedure for landing an Intrepid-class starship, Tom quickly deployed the three landing struts on the underside of the ship and took Voyager into a steep descent, aiming for the relatively flat area of a large asteroid that Seven had detected. 

"All hands, brace for impact," said Janeway, gripping the arms of her seat. 

Voyager dove closer and closer to the asteroid's rocky surface. Tom flattened out at the last possible second and set the ship down with a resounding thud as the landing struts ground against the uneven ice and rock beneath them. The ship slid several meters before its momentum dissipated and it ground to a halt on the desolate surface of the asteroid. 

"The cubes are following our previous course," said Seven as the bridge crew recovered from the rough landing. "They appear to have detected our ion trail." 

"Shut everything down," ordered the Captain tersely. She saw Tom start to object, but she held up a hand with a sympathetic but firm expression. "I'm sorry, Tom, but you'll have to take the Jeffries tubes to Sickbay." 

He nodded, and started for the access port at the back of the bridge. 

Janeway turned to Tuvok. "Keep an eye on those cubes. If they spot us, we'll be vulnerable -- we'll need to be able to restore power and get out of here as quickly as possible, on thrusters and without weapons if we have to." 

"Aye, Captain." 

The lights on the bridge went out and they were thrown into complete darkness. One by one, they all turned on their wrist lights, illuminating the bridge in irregular moving beams. 

"Mr. Kim?" 

"Everything's shut down except minimal sensors. We shouldn't be giving off any power signature detectable over the thalium and the EM radiation from the asteroid as long as we don't have more than half a dozen emergency generators going." 

Captain Janeway nodded, then turned to the barely illuminated form of her First Officer beside her. 

"And now?" he said. 

Her expression was grim. "And now... now, we wait." 

..... 

Tom could hear B'Elanna's yells of anguish before he even reached the last junction on deck five. With life support disengaged, the Jeffries tube was unbearably stuffy. Spurred on by another cry from his wife, he finally reached the access door at the end of the tunnel. It popped open with his second push. 

He stuck his head out and was instantly blinded by a light shining directly in his face. "Who's there?" a harried voice demanded. 

"Relax, Doc," he said, shielding his eyes. "It's me." 

"Mr. Paris," said the hologram, relieved. "I thought perhaps we had been boarded." 

"I doubt the Borg would use the Jeffries tubes... Doc, do you mind lowering that light?" 

"Oh -- of course." The EMH complied and stepped forward to help Tom out of the Jeffries tube. 

B'Elanna groaned from somewhere in the darkness nearby. "Tom? Is that you?" 

Scanning the room in the direction of the sound, Tom located his wife on a biobed to his left. "Yeah. How are you doing?" 

"How do you think I'm doing?" she demanded. "I want this OVER WITH AARRRRRGGGHHH!" She groped for and found his hand, squeezing it with incredible force as another contraction gripped her. 

Grimacing, Tom turned to the Doctor. "Her labour is progressing normally," the Doctor informed him, "although perhaps a little faster than I expected." He leveled a reproving glare at B'Elanna that penetrated the darkness of the room. "Most likely due to her labour being induced by a fall rather than naturally." 

"What?" said Tom. 

"She was brought in by Crewman Yosa. He said she was on her way to Engineering and lost her balance during the attack." 

"B'Elanna...." 

"What did you expect me to do?" she demanded. "Sit in my quarters while the ship got blown to pieces?" 

Tom refrained from arguing with her, as well as from pointing out that she had specifically agreed to stay away from Engineering until the baby was born. "What can I do to help?" he asked the Doctor. 

"I'll need an emergency generator set up," he replied. "There should be one next to my office. You can hook up an incubator, as well." 

B'Elanna groaned as she was hit with another contraction and the Doctor scanned her, running the small wand over her swollen belly with a frown. "Hm... you're still progressing much quicker than I'd like, Lieutenant." 

She growled and shot him a look that would have frozen molten lava. "Speak for yourself." 

..... 

_Captain's log, Stardate 55012.7 It's now been an hour and a half since we took refuge in the asteroid field. The Borg do not appear to have detected us, but they're not giving up either. The crew is becoming uncomfortable without life support, but until the Borg leave us alone I have no choice but to maintain the status quo._

Crewman Tal Celes hurried across main Engineering, keeping her eyes fixed on the beam of her wrist light as it tracked slowly across the floor, making sure she didn't trip as she made her way blindly towards the storage locker. She was nearly halfway there when she smacked headfirst into something and landed on the floor. 

Scrambling backwards, she lifted up one arm and directed her light at whatever it was she had run in to. "C-captain Janeway?" she stammered, mortified. "W-what are you doing down here?" 

"I wasn't aware I was confined to the bridge." 

Celes' eyes widened at her unintended impertinence. "I-I didn't mean --" She stepped forward and helped the captain up. "I'm so sorry, I, I can't see anything with this light and I was trying not to trip because Ensign Ashmore wanted a --" 

Janeway raised her hand to stop the young Bajoran's rambling. "As you were, crewman." 

"Y-yes, ma'am." Celes hurried off towards the storage locker. 

"Captain Janeway. Is there a problem?" Vorik asked, leaving his station and walking over to meet her. 

"I thought I might make myself useful instead of sitting around the bridge waiting," she replied. "Where is Lieutenant Nicolletti?" 

"In Sickbay," said Vorik. "She sustained a concussion while manually activating the antimatter injector." He turned and began leading the captain towards the darkened warp core. "I believed our first priority would be to restore the warp drive in case we are discovered." 

"Good. How long?" 

"It could take several hours. Our resources are severely limited; several of the crew were injured during the battle or the landing." 

"Use any other personnel you need." Janeway began striding purposefully around the warp core, surveying the ongoing repairs in the darkness, punctuated by the moving beams from the crew's wrist lights. "I'll survey the repairs here; they seem to be well under control. Take a team and get to work on the shields." 

"Of course, captain." 

"Ensign," continued the captain, "we need the weapons up and running." 

"Primary and secondary phaser couplings are fused," reported Ensign Ashmore. "We'll have to get in there and repair them manually. We also need to repair the power manifold on the torpedo launchers." 

"Take only as many people as you need to get it done within the hour." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

She watched as Vorik and Ashmore began to gather some of the crew to assist them, then turned towards Ensign Tabor, who was working at a panel near the core. "Well, Ensign, what have we got?" 

..... 

"Breathe, B'Elanna. Breathe." 

"I... can't!" 

"Yes, you can. Just like we practiced, remember? In... out. In... out." 

B'Elanna squeezed her eyes shut and tried to concentrate. She managed to take a few controlled breaths before she began gasping irregularly again. She moaned. "I can't breathe." 

Tom squeezed her hand and ran the back of his hand over her forehead. They were both sweating from the rising humidity and the air felt thinner. "I know. We can't risk turning life support on or those cubes might see us." 

She nodded with effort. "Doesn't mean I have to like it." 

"Maybe you should register a complaint with the Collective," he smirked. 

"I think I willAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGH!" 

Tom winced as she crushed his hand in her grip as the contraction grew in intensity. "Something's wrong," she gasped, her chest heaving as she tried desperately to fill her lungs. 

She cried out from another contraction just as one of the monitors next to the bed went off. Doc rushed over from an injured crewman that he had been treating for plasma burns. 

"What is it?" demanded B'Elanna. 

"The baby's heart rate is dropping," said the hologram with a frown. 

"Is she okay?" 

"Not for long." 

Tom immediately snapped into action. "We need a fetal transport." 

"Lieutenant!" Startled, Tom turned to face the EMH. "The Borg might be able to detect the transport." 

"But --" 

"You heard the captain. We must keep our energy signature to a minim--" 

"This is my daughter we're talking about!" 

"I know, but --" 

B'Elanna cried out again and clutched her stomach. The alarms from the monitors became more insistent. Ignoring the EMH, Tom moved to the control panel. "Get the incubator ready," he said. 

The hologram stood his ground. "Lieutenant, I'm sorry, but if --" 

Tom fixed him with a furious stare the doctor had never seen him use. "I'll shut down your program if you force me to, Doc." 

The hologram opened and closed his mouth, looking from Tom's determined expression to B'Elanna's pleading gaze. 

"Do you want my daughter's life on your conscience?" snapped Tom. 

Doc stared back at Tom for several seconds, then joined him at the console. "Get the transporter ready while I monitor her vitals and the contractions. We'll give her another minute, then prepare for transport." 

..... 

Captain Janeway brushed her hair out of her face and crouched back down next to the damaged power coupling she was trying to repair. 

Her commbadge chirped. "Janeway here," she said tersely. 

_Captain,_ said Chakotay, _Harry has just detected a transport in progress._

She tensed, as did several of the crew nearby who could overhear the conversation. "Borg?" 

_It came from Sickbay._

It only took her a few seconds to realize what had happened. "Any sign we've been spotted?" 

_Not yet. But they may have..._

There was silence for several seconds. "Chakotay?" she prompted, fearing the worst. 

_They're heading this way._

"Understood. Keep me informed." She took a deep breath and hit her commbadge again. "Janeway to Sickbay." 

_Go ahead, Captain,_ responded the EMH. 

"The Borg detected your transport." When there was silence on the other end of the comm, she added, "I assume I don't need to tell you not to do anything else that might attract their attention?" 

_No, Captain._

"Good. Janeway out." 

..... 

Tom and B'Elanna did not seem to have noticed the captain's hail. 

"Tom, is she okay?" demanded B'Elanna, sitting up so she could see over the edge of the incubator. 

Tom's expression was grim. "Her heart rate is erratic. She's having trouble breathing." 

"The incubator can't compensate for life support being off," said the Doctor. 

"Can't we give her something to help her breathe?" asked B'Elanna, almost frantic. 

"A sedative to relax her breathing could lower her heart rate," explained the EMH gently. "If I give her a stimulant, it could close off her airways." 

"We have to get life support back on!" 

"You heard the captain. The Borg may already have located us." 

Tears began streaming down B'Elanna's cheeks as she watched her helpless daughter struggle for breath. "We can't just let her die!" 

They heard what sounded like a distant detonation and a few seconds later the ship jolted beneath them. The incubator nearly tipped over but Tom kept his hands clenched around it. "What the hell was that?" 

..... 

"I don't think they've pinpointed our location," said Harry. "They're just randomly firing and hoping we'll show ourselves." 

They saw an asteroid disintegrate from the impact of a Borg torpedo not very far from Voyager's position. They barely had time to brace for the impact before the shockwave struck the asteroid they were on, shaking Voyager down to her bulkheads. 

"I hope their aim is as bad as their people skills," muttered Chakotay. He hit his commbadge. "Chakotay to Janeway." 

..... 

Captain Janeway blinked, trying to figure out why she couldn't see anything but a blurred mixture of blue and red. She gingerly pushed herself up and looked around. Something was covering her right eye, but after a few seconds she realized she was in main engineering. 

_Chakotay to Janeway, please respond._

She fumbled around and hit her commbadge. "Go ahead," she said, slurring slightly. She gently touched the throbbing pain above her eye. It was sticky and blood was running down the side of her face. 

_The Borg are firing in our direction, but we don't think they've spotted us yet._

Her mental fog began to lift. She wiped the blood off her face with the back of her arm and slowly pulled herself to her feet, gripping the railing next to her as the room began to spin. She could see a large patch of blood on the railing near her hand -- she must have struck her head on the railing when the ship had been hit. "We... don't have weapons yet," she said, looking around. Most of the Engineering crew seemed to be pulling themselves to their feet. 

_Understood. If they get too close we'll just have to outmaneuver them at impulse._

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." 

..... 

B'Elanna rested her trembling hand on the edge of the incubator, terrified to touch the fragile infant inside. Miral was crying feebly now in between shallow, ragged breaths and weakly moving her arms and legs. B'Elanna stifled a sob. 

"Her blood oxygenation is still critical," said the Doctor. "Her lungs are too weak to compensate for the altered atmosphere." 

B'Elanna snapped out of her daze. "We've got to restore life support!" 

Doc stepped forward and gently grabbed her by the shoulders before she made it more than a few steps towards the door. "Lieutenant..." 

"We have to save her!" 

"Captain Janeway --" 

"TO HELL WITH CAPTAIN JANEWAY! IT'S NOT HER NEWBORN DAUGHTER LYING THERE GASPING FOR EVERY BREATH! SHE NEEDS LIFE SUPPORT!" 

"Come on, Doc," pleaded Tom. "We've got to do something." 

B'Elanna broke down sobbing hysterically. Tom stepped forward and supported her as her legs collapsed out from under her. 

Reluctantly, the hologram reached for his commbadge. "Doctor to Captain Janeway." 

_Go ahead._

"I... how soon until we can restore life support to Sickbay?" 

_I'll keep you informed, Doctor._

"It's an emergency, Captain. Tom and B'Elanna's daughter... is having trouble breathing. Without power or life support, I'm not sure if she'll make it." 

B'Elanna suppressed another sob. There was silence over the comm. 

_I'm sorry, Doctor, we can't risk it. The Borg already have a vague idea of our position and I don't want to give them the slightest chance to narrow it down._

"Captain, we have to do something!" said Tom, still holding B'Elanna. 

_I'm sorry, Tom._

"She'll die!" cried B'Elanna. 

There was another long pause. _We're doing everything we can to get out of here... but if we restore life support, even to only one deck, you'll only be saving your daughter's life long enough for the Borg to find us._

Another concussion from a Borg torpedo impacting a nearby asteroid rocked the ship. 

_We're all doing our best to get out of this, but until then... I'm afraid you'll just have to sit tight and make due._

The comm channel closed with a soft click and B'Elanna let out another sob. "Make due? We... have to... DO SOMETHING," she cried hysterically. 

Doc suddenly looked up, his expression thoughtful. "I think I might have an idea." 

..... 

His eyes well adjusted to the darkness after nearly two hours, Harry saw Commander Chakotay stop pacing and turn towards Ops. "They're still out there," he answered before the question came. 

Chakotay nodded and sat down, his feet sore from pacing. It was only partially to relieve some of the stress of the situation -- with life support down and the warp engines offline, the cold from the vacuum outside was beginning to penetrate the ship and the pacing helped keep him warm. Despite the chill on the bridge, the air seemed to be sticking to them as it might on a humid tropical planet. 

"Perhaps Starfleet should rethink its policy of refraining from the use of cloaking devices," commented Seven. Even with her Borg-enhanced physiology, she was starting to show the strain of the altered atmosphere and the dropping temperature. 

"According to the treaty of --" 

"She was joking, Tuvok," interrupted Chakotay. 

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Indeed." 

_Janeway to Chakotay._

"Go ahead, Captain." 

_Any change in Borg activity?_

Chakotay directed his flashlight at the panel next to him. "They appear to be nearing the end of the search grid they laid out." The ship rocked from another shockwave, this one farther away than the others. "One of the cubes is still firing randomly trying to smoke us out. They may be close to giving up." 

_Good. We should have weapons and shields in under twenty minutes and warp in thirty. I'll head back to the bridge once everything is under control here._

"Understood." 

_Janeway out._

..... 

The Queen's eyes shifted from image to image on the array of displays before her, but there was no sign of her quarry. 

Her attention was drawn to a small readout on her left. With a wave of her hand, she brought it to the forefront and frowned. 

Five cubes under attack. The battle did not appear to be going well for the Collective. 

She swept aside the display in frustration, cocking her head to side slightly as she felt the minds of hundreds upon hundreds of drones extinguish as the battle progressed. It was the closest attack yet to her stronghold of Unimatrix One. The sheer nerve of it was disturbing. 

Her eyes moved again to where they had seen the last trace of Voyager. A flash of desperation flickered briefly at the back of her mind before she quelled it. She ordered the cubes to withdraw with a flick of her mind, and her lips curved into a sensuous, devious smile. 

Captain Janeway may have outwitted her for now, but she would find Voyager and assimilate the information they carried. It was only a matter of time. 

..... 

Harry was having trouble concentrating; it was hard to think when it felt as though the air around him was actually squeezing him. He had to look several times before he was sure that what he was seeing on the sensor readouts was accurate. 

"Sir," he said, his voice parched, "they're leaving." 

Chakotay rose sluggishly from his seat. "Are you sure?" 

"They're, uh, they're moving away from the asteroid field. They've gone to transwarp." 

"We should wait several minutes before restoring power," said Tuvok. "Their retreat may simply be a ruse designed to make us reveal our position." 

"Agreed," said Chakotay. "Harry, keep a close eye on your sensors. We'll wait a few minutes then get the hell out of here." 

..... 

Making her way back up towards the bridge with several decks left to go, Captain Janeway forced another junction door open and pulled herself through it. The ladder above her seemed to stretch on forever. 

She tried vainly to brush the hair out of her face but it seemed to be permanently plastered there. The air felt as though it was sticking to her skin and her breathing was becoming more ragged the more she exerted herself. The insistent throbbing from the cut above her eye wasn't helping matters, either. 

Determined to continue despite the air around her seeming to weigh her down, she stood up and gripped the ladder, the film of sweat on her palms making the rungs slippery under her grip, and her fingers were beginning to go numb from the cold. She pulled herself upwards, one rung at a time. 

After what seemed hours, she reached the last junction and slowly crawled out the access tube and onto the bridge. She sat down on the floor and slumped back against the wall, exhausted. Someone knelt in front of her. "Captain? Are you all right?" 

She recognized Harry's voice and nodded, getting to her feet with his help. "I'm fine, Ensign, just a little the worse for wear." She made her way towards her seat, leaning on the railing and wiping more blood off her face. "Report." 

"The Borg have gone to transwarp," Chakotay told her. 

"It could be a trap. They might be waiting for us to show ourselves before they strike." 

"We had the same thought." 

_Engineering to Bridge._

"Go ahead," replied Chakotay. 

_We're ready when you are,_ reported Ensign Ashmore. _Weapons, shields and warp drive are at your disposal._

"Good work, Ensign." He turned to the Captain. 

"If it's a trap, I suppose now's as good a time as any to take the bait." She turned to Ops. "Harry, restore main power and essential systems." The lights on the bridge came on and there was a noticeable difference in the air as life support returned. "Chakotay, take the helm and get us out of here." 

Taking Tom's seat, Chakotay powered thrusters and with a sharp jolt, Voyager lifted off the face of the asteroid. The ship threaded its way through the asteroid field as the landing struts folded up into the ship's ventral plating. 

"Any sign of them?" asked Janeway as the ship cleared the last asteroids. 

"None," replied Tuvok. 

The atmosphere on the bridge relaxed noticeably. 

"Resume our previous heading, maximum warp," she ordered. The asteroid field disappeared behind them in a flash of light as the stars began flowing past the viewscreen. 

Janeway rose from her chair and moved towards the turbolift. "Tuvok, you have the bridge. Commander, you're with me." 

..... 

Chakotay smiled as young Miral held his thumb with a surprisingly strong grip. "Takes after her mother, I see." 

Captain Janeway leaned to the side so she could see past the Doctor and smiled. The EMH rolled his eyes in frustration. "Captain, for someone who claims to dislike Sickbay, you seem to do everything in your power to extend your stay here. Now please, stay still." He grabbed her chin, twisted her head back towards him and continued passing the dermal regenerator over the gash above her eye. 

When he was finished with the regenerator, Captain Janeway glanced over her shoulder at the haphazard contraption sitting in the middle of Sickbay. "What did you call it again?" 

"An oxygen tent," preened the EMH. "It's an ancient technique used for prematurely born infants, providing an increased oxygen atmosphere to assist breathing. We enclosed the incubator and then used an oxygen tank that Mr. Paris retrieved from an environmental suit to enrich the atmosphere inside the tent. Quite ingenious, really, if I do say so myself." He pressed a hypospray to her neck. "This analgesic should take the edge off the concussion. Let me know if you have any further symptoms." 

She pushed herself off of the edge of the bed. "Thank you, Doctor." Free from the hologram, she moved over to join Chakotay at B'Elanna's side. 

Tilting her head to get a better view of the infant, who was curled up against her mother sleeping, she smiled. "She's beautiful, B'Elanna." 

"I still can't believe she's mine." B'Elanna picked up her daughter's miniscule hand and examined her fingers. "She's so tiny." 

Sitting on the bed, next to B'Elanna, Tom pulled his attention away from his wife and daughter long enough to address the captain. "Are the Borg still pursuing us?" 

"No," she replied. "We haven't seen so much as a glimpse of a cube since they left the asteroid field." 

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Captain, I --" 

She held up her hand. "Doctor, I understand why you did what you did, but I hope you realize you put the entire crew at risk." 

"Do you think he should have let my daughter die?" 

Startled by the hostility in B'Elanna's tone, it took the captain a few moments to reply. "No," she said slowly, "but in saving her life he nearly sacrificed the lives of the entire crew." 

"But he didn't. And if it weren't for him, she would have suffocated before any of you saw fit to restore life support." 

"I understand how you feel, but I couldn't risk the entire crew when --" 

"You can't possibly understand how I feel. You weren't standing here watching the life ebb out of your child. If you were in my position, you would have done whatever it took to save her." 

"And if you had been in my position, you would have had the lives of one hundred and forty-six people to consider." 

"One hundred and forty-five, you mean. That's what it nearly was." 

Chakotay intervened. "B'Elanna, that's enough. The captain's right. If we had restored life support before the Borg left we would either be dead or assimilated right now. _Including_ Miral." 

Doc also decided to step in. "I think my patients could use some rest." 

Quickly taking the hint, Janeway retreated. Chakotay followed her out the door. "Kathryn?" 

"I'll be in Engineering," she said over her shoulder without stopping. 

He watched her with a frown as she disappeared down the hallway. Deciding that it wasn't his fault if she wouldn't talk to him, he shrugged and started back towards the bridge. 

..... 

Tom looked up from his breakfast as someone slid a large translucent computer chip up to his omelet. Harry Kim sat down opposite him. "How's B'Elanna doing?" 

"Good. Doc's letting her take Miral back to our quarters today." He picked up the chip. "What's this?" 

"Replicator rations and holodeck time." 

"What for?" 

Harry's eyebrow rose. "You don't know?" 

"Know what?" 

"You won the baby pool. You were only two hours off." 

Tom laughed and turned over the chip in his hand. "I didn't even remember." 

"Guess you've got more important things on your mind now," grinned Harry. After a few moments, his expression became serious and he leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Look, I know you and B'Elanna are upset with the captain, but I think she's taking it pretty hard. She spent her entire shift yesterday in her ready room going over reports. She only came out once to check on the repairs." 

Tom tapped the computer chip on the table but made no answer. 

"What did you expect her to do? Light the ship up like a flare for the Borg?" 

"She... there could have been some other..." Tom sighed. "It just felt like she wasn't even trying to do anything." 

"You know her better than that, Tom. Or at least, I thought you did." 

He tossed his utensils down on his half-empty plate. "I have to get our quarters ready before Doc springs B'Elanna and Miral." 

"Tom --" 

"I'll see you later, Harry." 

Harry turned around in his chair and watched his friend rush out of the mess hall without so much as a glance in his direction. 

..... 

Chakotay pressed his thumb against the button outside the ready room as he scanned the PADD in his hand. 

"Come." 

The doors slid open and he saw the captain sitting behind her desk, coffee cup in hand. "The latest status report from Engineering," he said, handing her the PADD. "They should have the ship as good as new by next week." 

"Hm." Janeway took another sip of coffee. "Looks like they'll have their hands full. Microfractures along the hull on deck ten, damage to the plasma relays on deck four, three ODN relays that need replacing on deck seven..." 

"I'm sure it's nothing they can't handle." 

"Hm," she said again. 

"Have you spoken to Tom and B'Elanna?" 

"No," she said, keeping her eyes on the PADD. "The doctor says he's letting B'Elanna and Miral out of Sickbay this morning." 

"Kathryn... you know B'Elanna. She was probably just overemotional and lost her temper. She and Tom know you would never do anything to harm their daughter." 

She set the PADD down slowly. "She has every reason to be angry with me. Miral nearly died." 

"The situation wasn't your fault. You didn't have a choice." 

"There's always a choice, Chakotay. I count myself fortunate that my actions didn't cost that little girl her life." 

"You can't blame yourself for what happened." 

"I'm responsible for every life on this ship." 

"And you did what you had to do to preserve those lives. Even if that meant risking one life to save everyone else." 

"It still doesn't seem right." 

"It's not supposed to seem right. As you should know, there's nothing easy about command." 

She smiled. "No, I can't say that there is. Although the office is definitely a perk." 

"I still wouldn't want to be in your shoes." 

"I can't blame you." She leaned back in her chair, more relaxed than before her first officer had arrived. "If you don't want my shoes, can I interest you in my cooking? I still have those replicator rations saved up." 

He felt a pang of guilt. "I've already got plans, I'm afraid. Another time?" 

"Of course." She smiled and turned back to her work, but he could see she was still troubled. Unable to do anything about it at the moment, he reluctantly rose and left her alone. 

..... 

"You're late." 

Seven smiled as she approached the doors to the holodeck where Chakotay was waiting. "I had more difficulty than I expected procuring this. It was very well concealed." 

Chakotay's eyes narrowed at the bottle in her hand, which was unmistakably Antarian cider. "How did you..." 

"I have my sources." 

"Last time I trust Icheb to keep a secret," he muttered, grinning despite himself. 

"Icheb did ask me to reassure you that Mr. Neelix never found your 'private stash.' I'm sure he'll be just as vigilant with Mr. Chell." 

"You, however, are an exception?" 

"I think he suspected its use," she said with a sly smile. "Computer, activate program alpha-one-four." 

The holodeck doors slid open and they stepped onto a wooden dock on the edge of a lake. It was a crisp summer evening with a light breeze blowing and the moon reflecting on the surface of the water. 

Chakotay's eyes widened at the familiar setting. "Where did you get this?" he asked, more sharply than he intended. 

Seven, who was walking ahead of him, stopped and turned around. "I wanted to learn how to sail. The computer selected this program. It's a simulation of Lake George, on Earth. I... could choose another one if --" 

"No... no, that's all right." The gentle waves lapping the edge of the sailboat brought old memories to the surface. 

But that was the past. It was time to make new memories, to start fresh. He smiled at the woman standing in front of him and rested his hand on her back, guiding her down the dock. 

"Let's go sailing." 

..... 

Harry Kim was surprised to find that he wasn't the only one who had sought the solitude of the mess hall in the middle of the night. "Captain?" 

Seated on one of the couches near the window, she turned around, startled. "Harry. What time is it?" 

He approached her. "0300. Mind if I sit down?" 

"Not at all. Couldn't sleep?" 

"Not really. You?" 

She smiled. "Never tried. I didn't realize it was that late... or early, I guess." 

There was an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Harry cleared his throat. "Captain... I know Tom and B'Elanna are angry with you for what happened during the Borg attack... and I just wanted to make sure you know I think you did the right thing." 

Her expression softened and he could tell that she was touched by his support. "I appreciate that." 

"And deep down, I know Tom and B'Elanna do too. They just... I'm sure you can imagine what it was like for them. They would do anything for Miral, and when her life was in the balance they couldn't help her. It's easier for them if they have something... or someone... to blame." 

"And I just happen to be the natural target," she said with a wry smile. 

"They don't really think you'd ever do anything to hurt Miral. They're angry now, but they'll get over it." 

She reached over and patted him on the knee as she got to her feet. "Coffee, Harry?" 

"Sure. Thanks." 

She refilled her mug from the pot in the galley and poured one for Harry as well. 

"It seems strange," he said as she handed him his coffee, "being in the mess hall late at night without Neelix here, hanging around and making excuses to stay around and talk." 

Captain Janeway smiled sadly as she settled back on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her. "He was part of our family. I don't think it will ever be the same without him." 

They had been sitting in silence for several minutes when the Captain suddenly chuckled to herself. 

"What?" asked Harry. 

She wrapped her fingers tighter around her mug. "I was just thinking of a young ensign who was so terrified of the chain of command that he wouldn't even ask his captain to sit down with him in the mess hall. And now, here you are, drinking coffee with me in the middle of the night." 

Harry laughed softly. "Yeah... things change, I guess." 

She reached over and squeezed his shoulder fondly. "You've come a long way from the green ensign who reported for duty at Deep Space Nine seven years ago, Harry." 

"Thank you, ma'am. That means a lot." 

..... 

_Captain's Log, Stardate 55216.4 We've had no sign of the Borg since our last encounter, but something tells me this reprieve is only temporary. However, it is still a reprieve and I intend to use it to the best of my ability. The repairs to the ship have been completed, and B'Elanna's engineering crews have now moved on to dismantling the Borg alcoves that have been a part of cargo bay two ever since the Borg incursion on my ship five years ago. A week ago, Seven of Nine requested quarters for both herself and Icheb, since the portable regenerators the doctor has developed has made their use of the alcoves unnecessary. I suspect the request was brought on not only by practicality but by Seven's realization that Icheb would be more at home in quarters of his own as he matures and grows away from his Borg tendencies. Seven has also requested a uniform, despite her lack of commission. I granted the request, gladly -- she is as much a part of this crew as any ensign or lieutenant and I believe she has earned the right to a uniform. I have to admit, it makes me proud to see her wear it._

..... 

"Come." 

Chakotay stepped into the ready room. "Didn't your shift end two hours ago?" 

Captain Janeway sighed. "Feels like six. I was hoping to finish going over the proposals for the cargo bay before I left." 

"And?" 

"I didn't." She smiled. "But since I can either do it later or sit here arguing with you, I'll choose the former." 

He stood aside and held the doors open for her as she rose from her desk. She preceded him out the door and towards the turbolift. 

"Deck three," she ordered as the doors slid shut. "I've still got those replicator rations if you're up for dinner." 

"Tonight's...not a good night. Can I take another rain check?" 

"Of course." 

She appeared composed, but something in her voice told him that there was more going through her mind than she was letting on. He had known her long enough that he could see through most of her defenses, and he could sense a sort of uneasiness under the surface. He wasn't surprised -- this had to have been at least the fourth time he had turned down an invitation from her, and on a small ship there was only so much else that could demand his time. 

She must have felt his eyes on her, studying her, and she looked up at him with a quizzical expression, one eyebrow raised slightly. He looked away, but not before he felt a stab of guilt. He had given himself, as well as Seven, several justifications for keeping their blossoming relationship under wraps, but standing here in the turbolift with Kathryn, all his reasons seemed empty. 

She deserved to know. And she deserved to hear it from him. He found it hard to define his relationship with Kathryn, even to himself, but he knew he owed her honesty at the very least. 

He looked back at her, and somehow he knew that she had been scrutinizing him and had looked away a split second before he had turned towards her. As he opened his mouth to speak, the turbolift stopped and the doors slid open. 

"Kathryn?" 

She stopped in mid-stride, poised to step out the door, and faced him. "Yes?" 

"I've changed my mind about that rain check... I can't make it for dinner, but would it be all right if I stopped by your quarters later for coffee?" 

She smiled, but it was an uneasy smile, as if she could sense the importance of his request. "Only if you're willing to give me a hand with the remaining proposals for the cargo bay renovation." 

He returned her smile. "Yes, ma'am." 

..... 

Kathryn stared into the black depths of her coffee until she was reasonably certain she had regained her composure. Subtly taking a deep breath, she looked up at Chakotay seated opposite her. 

"For how long?" she asked finally. 

"Almost two months." He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Kathryn. I should have told you earlier." 

Her lips tightened slightly but her gaze remained steady. "It's none of my business. I don't recall any Starfleet regulations about informing your captain of any... romantic involvements." 

His hand bridged the gap between them to rest lightly on her knee. "You're not just my captain. You're my friend." 

Her carefully controlled mask slipped slightly and for an instant he could see the hurt in her eyes. Whether it was his secrecy about his relationship with Seven or the relationship itself that bothered her more he didn't presume to guess. 

"I didn't mean to keep it from you, Kathryn. It just happened... and I'm sorry." 

"There's nothing to be sorry about." Her lips curved into a warm smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I hope she can make you happy." 

"She does." 

After seconds that seemed to stretch on for hours, Chakotay set his mug down on the table between them and moved to leave. As he started towards the door, he turned back as if on a sudden impulse. "Kathryn... do you think it would ever have worked out between us?" 

She met his penetrating gaze and it was a long time before she answered. "I don't know," she said honestly. 

He accepted this with a nod and after a few seconds of awkward silence, he turned and left her quarters. 

As the doors shut, leaving the captain alone in the smothering silence of her quarters, she felt suddenly abandoned and she didn't know why. 


	2. Part Two: 2380

DISCLAIMER: Paramount's, not mine. If only. 

**Lead Me Through the Fire**

**Part Two**

_Captain's personal log, Stardate 56320.6. Eight years ago today, I made the fateful decision that stranded Voyager in the Delta Quadrant. It seems like only yesterday that I said goodbye to Mark for the last time... I never imagined that hasty conversation would be our last for so many years. And yet, I feel as though I've been with this crew, this family, for far longer than eight years. Looking back, it's hard to believe how far we've come from the divided groups that were thrown together against our will... if someone had told me then how close this crew would become, I don't think I would have believed them._

Captain Janeway sat alone in her dark quarters, staring out the window without seeing. The anniversary of Voyager's arrival in the Delta Quadrant was always a difficult time. Another year spent separated from their homes and families. Another year she had failed to find them a way home. Another year filled with loss. 

For several years now, she and Chakotay had marked the occasion by having dinner together. He always managed to make her focus on their triumphs, rather than the people who were no longer with them or the fact that they had spent another year stranded half a galaxy away from home. 

She assumed he had plans with Seven this year. He hadn't mentioned the anniversary, and she hadn't wanted to bring it up. 

Sitting alone in the dark wasn't making it easy to find something to celebrate. She could feel the familiar pangs of guilt starting to grip the edges of her consciousness like icy tentacles. She squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to will them away, but the twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach grew more intense. 

Faces drifted into her thoughts. Ensign Hogan. Lieutenant Stadi. Ensign Jetal. Lieutenant Durst. Ensign Bennet. Commander Cavit. Crewman Suder. Crewman Bendera. Ensign Kaplan. Lieutenant Carey. 

She knew she had done the right thing eight years ago, even if it had stranded her crew seventy thousand light-years from home. If she had to do it again, she would. In a heartbeat. 

But that didn't make it any easier to live with herself. 

..... 

The Delta Flyer moved smoothly past a field of unfamiliar stars. A large purple-tinged nebula loomed in the distance, growing larger as the ship approached. 

Seated at the science station, Naomi Wildman confidently entered a series of commands on the console before her. She smiled to herself as she remembered the first time Seven had let her experiment with the controls -- she had been petrified of pushing a wrong button and engaging the self-destruct or firing a torpedo. Years of practice and lessons in ship operations had given her more confidence. This time the result of her entered commands was a schematic and compositional analysis of the nebula they were about to survey. 

Seven, standing slightly behind her, nodded her approval. "The captain also requested that we scan for omicron particles." 

Naomi considered for a moment. "Omicron particles are... in the theta band." 

"Correct." 

This time when Naomi's fingers touched the first key, two alarms went off simultaneously. It took her a few seconds to realize that her childhood nightmare had not come to life but that the tactical station and the helm were the sources of the noise. 

"What is it?" she demanded, her voice higher than normal as she turned to face the rest of the crew. 

"We've got company," said Tom at the helm. 

At Seven's indication, Naomi quickly surrendered the science station and stood in the middle of the cabin watching the others swing into action. They seemed to forget that she was even there. 

"Raising shields," said Tom. "Evasive maneuvers." 

"Phasers and photon torpedoes are powered and ready," said Tuvok at the tactical station. 

"If we could reach the nebula," suggested Seven, "it may interfere with their sensors." 

"Hold on." 

Naomi instinctively grabbed onto the back of Seven's chair, her slender fingers digging into the material as the Flyer banked in a steep turn. 

Several tense seconds passed as the small ship drew closer to the refuge. 

"They will overtake us before we reach the nebula," observed Seven. 

"This ship was built for speed," muttered Tom under his breath. "I'll be damned if she's gonna be outrun. Seven, reroute auxiliary power to the impulse engines." 

The Flyer accelerated gently, the engines humming as the ship strained towards the looming nebula. 

"Still insufficient," said Seven. 

"What's happening?" asked Naomi. "Who's chasing us?" 

"Go down to the cargo bay," Seven ordered in response. 

"Why?" 

Before Seven could answer, she was interrupted by Tuvok. "They are firing." 

Naomi reached again for the support of Seven's chair. A split second later, the Flyer shuddered violently under the impact of what she guessed was a large yield torpedo. 

The first blast was followed by two more in quick succession before she had a chance to catch her breath from the first concussion. The last torpedo struck the shields just above one of the Flyer's fins, throwing the ship off kilter. The jolt provided her with a sudden view of what was unmistakably the corner of a familiar cubical vessel. 

"The Borg," she heard herself whisper hoarsely. 

Seven turned to her with an expression that was deadly serious. "Naomi! The cargo bay! NOW!" 

"Shields at forty-seven percent," reported Tuvok. 

Sirens were blaring inside the shuttle now as the computer calmly recited the list of systems that were offline. Another torpedo punched into the weakened shields and the bulkheads reverberated under the blow. Naomi lost her balance and fell to the floor as it lurched under her. 

"Forward shields have failed," said Tuvok. "Aft shields are at twenty-three percent." 

The Delta Flyer jolted again and the interior of the ship was doused in an eerie green glow. 

"The cube has locked onto us with a tractor beam," said Seven, tension in her normally detached voice. 

The Borg cube was directly in front of them now, drawing inexorably closer to the immobilized shuttle. Naomi scrambled to her feet and ran. 

..... 

At the mental apex of the Borg Collective, the Borg Queen smiled in satisfaction as she watched the cube reel in the small Federation shuttle. 

_Find the information we need. Then assimilate them all._

..... 

Naomi considered herself fortunate that she and Mezoti had once snuck on board the Delta Flyer to play a game of hide-and-seek that had gone on for nearly an hour before they had been discovered by a very annoyed Seven. Because of this, she didn't even have to think as she flew down the steps to the cargo bay and headed straight for the cupboard that housed the environmental suits. Her hands clammy and trembling, she fumbled at the catch on the door several times before it cooperated. She yanked the door open roughly and quickly scrambled inside, pulling the door shut behind her. 

It was pitch-black. The only light came from a miniscule seam around the door, and even that took several seconds to become visible. 

She could hear her heart pounding against her ribs over the sound of her ragged breathing. Clutching her knees to her chest to try and stop her shaking, she sat on the floor of the cupboard and she waited. 

..... 

Captain Janeway strode out of the turbolift, Chakotay half a step behind her. "Report," she ordered tersely. 

Harry rose from the captain's chair and turned to meet them. "We just picked up a distress signal from the Delta Flyer." 

The captain's expression darkened and she could sense Chakotay tense behind her. "Let's hear it," she said with a nod. 

The transmission was distorted and all they could make out was garbled static. A single syllable came through: Borg. 

"Where are they?" she demanded. 

"Two light-years from here. Near a J-class nebula." 

"Two light-years?" said Chakotay. "Even at maximum warp...." 

"...that's still nearly eight hours away," finished the captain grimly. She turned to the helm. "Ensign, set a course, maximum warp." 

"Aye, Captain." 

..... 

Naomi's head jerked up from its resting place on her knees. She held her breath and listened. 

Phaser fire. 

Shouting. Was that Tom? 

The distorted tones of a Borg drone. 

A loud thump. Someone hitting the ground. She squeezed her eyes shut in the dark and hoped that it was a Borg drone. 

Another bout of phaser fire. 

The Borg monotone again. 

A scream. Her eyes shot open and she turned her head in the direction of the main cabin even though she couldn't see beyond the dark confines of her hiding place. Was that Seven? 

Silence. 

She waited. She didn't know how long; it could have been minutes or hours. After a while, the self-control she had imposed to be able to hear what was happening above began to ebb and she started crying softly. She could feel the tears running down her cheeks. 

Why hadn't anyone come to tell her it was all right? That the Borg were gone? 

What if they had all been assimilated? She let out a choked sob. 

A feeling of bitter shame crept over her. For crying. For hiding. For running away. 

She wiped the tears off her cheeks and took a slow deep breath before reaching for the door. 

Just as her fingers brushed the handle, it moved of its own accord. 

She felt a wave of relief pass over her. _It's okay. Everything is all right._

The door swung open, flooding her hiding place with bright light. 

She squinted against the glare. When her eyes adjusted, she found herself face to face with a Borg drone. 

And she screamed. 

..... 

_Captain's Log, Stardate 56491.3. We've been following the ion trail of the Borg cube that presumably attacked the Delta Flyer for five hours now and have finally caught up with them. I've concealed Voyager in the gravity distortions of a pulsar while we assess the situation._

Captain Janeway narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized the menacing image of a Borg cube on the viewscreen. "Any sign of the Delta Flyer?" 

"I'm having trouble penetrating the Borg shields," responded Harry. 

"What about life signs?" asked Chakotay. 

"It's impossible to tell at this distance." 

"If they've had the Delta Flyer for twelve hours," mused the captain, "chances are it's deep inside the cube by now. We need to be able to find our people and get them out fast." She looked around the bridge. "Suggestions?" 

Icheb was the first to speak after a long pause. "A tetryon pulse." 

He shifted on his feet nervously when he immediately had the attention of the entire bridge crew, but quickly gathered his wits. "If we program a torpedo to emit a highly concentrated tetryon pulse when it hits the Borg shields, it should overload their shield grid and disrupt it enough to allow our sensors and a transporter beam to penetrate inside the cube." 

"The effect would only be temporary," warned Harry. 

"How long?" asked the captain. 

"Fifteen seconds. Maybe twenty before they adapt." 

She turned to her chief engineer. "B'Elanna?" 

"Find the away team, the Flyer, and beam them to Voyager in fifteen seconds or less? It'll be tight, but I can do it." 

"The cube will still have power to their other systems," Icheb reminded them. 

"So we'll have to be dodging weapons fire while we try and get the away team out," said Harry. 

The captain nodded. "Chakotay, take the helm. Try and keep us out of trouble long enough for us to get our people out. How long do you need to modify the torpedo?" 

"Half an hour," said B'Elanna. 

"You have twenty minutes, then we'll break cover and head straight for the cube. Once the torpedo has been deployed, B'Elanna, start scanning for the Delta Flyer and beam it back to the cargo bay as soon as we're in transporter range. Harry, you'll have to find our people and get all of them back to Voyager before our window closes." She turned back to the image of the Borg cube on the viewscreen. "We're not leaving anyone behind, and we won't get a second chance at this." 

..... 

The tension on the bridge mounted as Voyager moved farther away from the cover of the pulsar's gravity, drawing steadily closer to the Borg cube ahead. 

"Fifty thousand kilometers and closing," reported Chakotay from the helm. 

"Have they detected us?" asked the captain over her shoulder in the direction of Ops. 

"If they have, they're not doing anything about it," said Harry. 

"Thirty thousand kilometers," said Chakotay. 

"Power weapons. Load the torpedo." 

"Phasers and photon torpedoes ready," replied Lieutenant Ayala from Tactical. 

"The tachyon torpedo is armed," added Harry. 

"Fifteen thousand kilometers," said Chakotay. 

"The cube's powering weapons!" snapped Ayala. "They're firing." 

The bridge shuddered under their feet at the impact of the torpedo. 

"Ten." 

"Wait..." 

"Eight." 

"Wait..." 

"Six... five..." 

"Now, Harry!" 

A torpedo shot from Voyager's underbelly and sailed towards the Borg cube. It struck the shields and sent shockwaves of green outward from its point of impact. The shields began to flicker and spark. 

"It worked!" exclaimed Harry. "Their shields are fluctuating!" 

The seconds ticked by, punctuated by the thud of Borg weapons fire. 

_Engineering to Bridge,_ came B'Elanna's voice at last, breaking the heavy silence. _I've got a lock on them. They're still inside the Flyer._

"Beam them directly to Sickbay and transport the Flyer to the shuttle bay." 

_Energizing..._ Several tense seconds passed before her voice returned. _I've got them, Captain._

"Good work. Chakotay, get us out of here." 

"Gladly," he muttered, banking Voyager into a steep turn. As he pulled out and away from the cube, the nacelles angled into their warp position and the ship jumped past the speed of light in the blink of an eye. 

"Lieutenant, make sure we're not being followed," she addressed Ayala at Tactical. 

"Yes, ma'am." 

She nodded at one of the other officers on the bridge. "Ensign, take the helm." 

Chakotay didn't need to be told why she was relieving him. He shadowed her to the turbolift as she informed Harry that she would be in Sickbay. 

..... 

Neither were prepared for the chilling scene that awaited them. 

Barely restrained horror was reflected in Captain Janeway's gaze as her eyes moved over the four members of the away team. 

Tom's head was rolled to the side, one arm draped over his waist and the other at his side. A mark from a Borg phaser blast was discernible just below the neckline of the aqua gown. His face was startlingly pale, the translucent skin contrasting with the cold grey of a sun-shaped Borg element that had asserted itself on his cheek. 

The captain's gaze turned to the still form of her oldest confidante. Tuvok's normally dark skin had a sickly grey tinge to it, mottled by the nanoprobes swarming under the surface. It was strange, seeing the normally strong and stoic Vulcan incapacitated by such small things. 

Seven showed no outward signs of assimilation, but the skin on her face was oddly translucent and there were striking dark circles under her eyes as though she had been several days without sleep. 

Her eyes drifted to the small figure in the bed next to Seven. Two puncture marks were visible on Naomi's slender neck, swollen like insect bites. The skin around the perforations was tinged a sickly blue color and engorged blue veins spread like a deadly spider web outwards from the apertures, encompassing what was visible of her shoulder as well as one side of her face, marring her delicate features. The skin on the back of one hand had split open, revealing a cybernetic endoderm under the surface. 

Still reeling, Captain Janeway turned to the Doctor. "Will they recover?" she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. 

The EMH nodded, his expression solemn. "Eventually. I managed to extract most of the nanoprobes and reverse the tissue necrosis. We're fortunate the Borg didn't get any further in the assimilation process." 

"Yes," she echoed. Her eyes rested on Samantha Wildman, sitting next to her daughter, stroking her hair and holding her undamaged hand. 

"Lieutenant Paris had the most progressive damage, so I suspect that he was attacked first. Commander Tuvok was fortunate to escape more severe neurological effects, considering." 

Janeway frowned. "Considering what?" 

The EMH seemed startled for a fraction of a second before he recovered. "Considering that this is not the first time he has been assimilated." 

"Of course." She turned her attention to the fourth Sickbay occupant. Chakotay was sitting dutifully next to the bed, watching Seven as if she might stop breathing if he looked away. "And Seven?" 

"She doesn't appear to have been the victim of assimilation, or reassimilation as it were, but something has severely disrupted her synaptic pathways." 

"Can you determine the cause?" 

"Not until I study my scans further." 

"But there won't be any permanent damage?" 

"It's being repaired as we speak. She'll be fully conscious in a few days." 

"Good. Maybe she can tell us what the Borg were after." 

"After?" repeated the Doctor. "You don't think this was a random attack?" 

"This was a calculated assault. They left the crew on board the Delta Flyer for over twelve hours, so they obviously weren't in a hurry to assimilate them. If they had wanted the technology from the Delta Flyer, it would have been dismantled within hours. No... they wanted something. Something specific." 

..... 

"They wanted me." 

Captain Janeway's expression was concerned as she scrutinized Seven, standing opposite her in the ready room. "You?" she repeated. 

"The reason the Borg sought out the Delta Flyer was because they were looking for me," she elaborated. 

"You can't be sure of that. This wasn't your fault, Seven." 

"They were looking for me," Seven insisted. 

"Why now? What do they want?" 

"Information," said Seven. "After the others were incapacitated, one of the drones... probed me." Captain Janeway was unable to conceal her revulsion at the thought as she continued. "He gained access to my nervous system using his assimilation tubules and attempted to access my thoughts and memories. He was searching for information." 

"That would explain the severe disruptions to your synaptic pathways that the doctor mentioned. Do you know what they were looking for?" 

"No." 

"Did they find it?" 

Seven looked at her, uneasiness reflected in her blue eyes. "I don't know. But if they failed... they will undoubtedly try again." 

..... 

The Borg Queen let loose her frustration in a single flick of her mind. She felt it ripple through the minds in the Collective, dissipating and being absorbed by the countless drones connected to her. The emotions rippled back and forth until they were no longer discernible. 

Calm permeated their consciousness once more. And the minds began to work as one. Alternatives. Strategies. Plans. 

They would get what they were looking for. The threat would be vanquished. 

..... 

Naomi Wildman fingered the PADD in her hands nervously as stood outside the doors of the captain's ready room. She could feel the sympathetic eyes of the bridge crew on her; she had been living with that ever since the away mission. 

The doors finally slid open and she stepped inside. Captain Janeway was seated at her desk with a cup of coffee. Her eyebrows raised slightly when she saw the identity of her caller. "Naomi. What can I do for you?" 

Naomi stepped forward and handed her the PADD she was carrying. "I came to give you this. It's my report on the attack on the Delta Flyer." 

The captain accepted the PADD without taking her eyes off the young girl. "Did someone tell you to write a report?" 

Naomi squared her shoulders. "No, ma'am. But I overheard some of the crew talking... they said the Borg were after Seven." 

"We think so, yes." 

"I want to help. I thought if I wrote a report..." She trailed off. Her reasoning had sounded much better in her quarters. 

But the captain smiled. "That's officer level thinking, Miss Wildman." 

"Thank you, ma'am." She glanced down at the floor and bit her lip. "Captain Janeway? Are the Borg trying to reassimilate Seven? Do they want her back?" 

She set down Naomi's report and clasped her hands on the desk in front of her. "I don't know," she admitted. "But... I think if they had wanted to reassimilate Seven, they would have. But they left her, and the rest of you, on the Delta Flyer. I think that means they were after something else." 

"Like what?" 

"I don't know." She could see Naomi was not reassured. Her skin still retained a pallor from her assimilation, and there was a scar below her jaw line that the doctor hadn't removed yet, the only outward sign of her experience. She was sure the emotional scars would take much longer to heal. "How are you doing?" she asked gently. 

"I'm fine, Captain." 

She smiled sadly. "I meant really, how are you doing. I was assimilated once too, in a manner of speaking." 

Naomi stiffened. "On purpose," she said quietly. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"You were assimilated on purpose. It was your choice. And you were still... you." 

Janeway was taken aback. "That's true," she said quietly. 

Naomi shifted uncomfortably, looking down at her feet. 

"Do you have someone to talk to?" asked the captain finally. 

"I... I talk to Icheb. I can't talk to my mom... she's asked me too, but I don't want to upset her. Icheb... he understands what I went through." 

"Are you having nightmares?" 

Naomi nodded. 

She smiled sympathetically. "They'll go away, in time." 

Naomi squeezed her eyes shut but despite her efforts tears began to run down her cheeks. The captain was nearly moved to tears as well at the sight of so much pain on someone so young. She rose and moved around her desk to stand in front of Naomi, resting a hand on her shoulder. "You've been through a traumatic experience... one nobody should ever have to go through, far less someone your age." 

Naomi nodded and wiped her tears away, bravely meeting the captain's pitying gaze. The expression made her look older. 

"Your mother," she continued, "has requested that you not go on any more away missions. But if you want me to, I can talk to her and try to change her mind." 

Naomi considered this. "I don't know," she said finally. 

"That's all right." She smiled. "My door is always open, if you want to talk." 

"Thank you, Captain." 

Naomi turned as if to leave, but paused and turned back. "Captain?" 

"Yes?" 

She hesitated. "Before... before you read my report...." 

The captain encouraged her with a nod and squeezed her shoulder. 

"I ran," she whispered. The words tumbled out now, and tears ran down her cheeks again. "I'm sorry, but I was scared. I know I should have stayed, and helped, but...." 

The captain wrapped her arms around Naomi's slim frame and pressed her close as if she could absorb the young girl's pain and suffering. 

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, her words muffled by the captain's shoulder. 

The captain gently pulled away, her hands still resting on Naomi's shoulders. "Naomi, listen to me. You did the right thing." 

Naomi's expression was doubtful. "What about the three rules?" 

"What rules?" 

"The three rules about being a Starfleet captain. Keep your shirt tucked in, go down with your ship... and never abandon a member of your crew." Captain Janeway smiled at the recollection. "You told me those rules when I was younger, and I've never forgotten them." 

"You're not a Starfleet captain, Naomi. You may be one someday, but here's another piece of advice: don't take that responsibility on yourself before you have to. It's not something I would wish on anyone else, in our situation." 

It had never occurred to Naomi that there could be drawbacks to the four pips that adorned Janeway's collar. "Do you ever wish that someone else had been given command of Voyager? That you were back in the Alpha Quadrant?" 

"Do you ever wish you had been born in the Alpha quadrant, instead of on a starship?" 

Naomi smiled through her tears. "Never." 

The smile was reflected in the captain's expression. "Me neither." 

..... 

The transmission was full of static, but the familiar smile on Neelix's face was still visible and Seven of Nine smiled back. 

"Seven!" the Talaxian greeted her. "This is a pleasant surprise! I wasn't expecting to hear from you anytime soon." His demeanor softened. "I understand you had a rather unpleasant encounter." 

"The Borg," she acknowledged. "I'm fine." 

"I've never known anyone to have a run in with the Borg and be fine." 

"I'm unharmed," she clarified. 

"That's a relief. What about Naomi? The message didn't say much except that she was involved." 

"Her physical wounds will heal, but I suspect this experience will affect her profoundly for a long time." 

"She's young to have to deal with something like that. So were you, for that matter." 

Seven nodded. "I'm afraid I have more bad news to relate. Voyager will move out of comm range of New Talax within 48 hours." 

Neelix's expression grew even more despondent. "We won't be able to stay in contact?" 

"We will still be able to send subspace messages, but they will take several months in each direction." 

"Well... we did know this would happen eventually." 

"Harry and I are attempting to modify Voyager's communications array," Seven continued when she saw Neelix's dampened spirits. "It is possible that we will eventually be able to restore visual contact." 

"If anyone can do it, I'm sure you and Harry can." 

Seven smiled. "I appreciate your confidence." 

"You've earned it." Neelix paused, thoughtful. "Seven, if we're going to lose our commlink, I think I should --" 

"I have already informed the senior staff, and Naomi as well. They should be here shortly." 

"Thank you." 

"I... wanted to share something with you before the others arrived." 

"Oh?" 

Her lips curved into a shy smile. "I wanted to inform you first, since you encouraged me to proceed." 

"Proceed in what?" 

"In my relationship with Chakotay." Her smile widened. "He proposed, and I accepted." 

"Proposed?" It took a few seconds before the Talaxian's confused expression evaporated into a beaming smile. "Marriage? Seven, that's wonderful! Congratulations!" 

"Thank you." 

"Does the rest of the crew know?" 

"Not yet. Chakotay asked me to wait a few days before we informed them. He said he had something to take care of first." 

..... 

Captain Janeway rubbed the side of her forehead absentmindedly as the turbolift gently descended. "I still can't believe this might be the last time we ever talk to him." 

"He's been a part of our lives for almost nine years now," replied Chakotay. 

"It was a difficult enough adjustment when he left Voyager," she continued, "but at least we still had contact with him. And poor Naomi Wildman... he's probably the closest thing she's ever had to a father. And I'm sure she could use one right now." 

"I'm sure she'll miss Neelix, but she's got a lot of people that care about her." 

The turbolift stopped and the doors opened. Captain Janeway led the way down the corridor. 

"Before I forget," said Chakotay as they neared Astrometrics, "do you have plans for dinner tonight?" 

"I'm sure my replicator will get over its disappointment at being stood up. What did you have in mind?" 

"Dinner in my quarters?" 

"Sounds delightful. What's the occasion?" 

"No occasion, but I do want to talk to you about something." 

Before she had a chance to question him further, they had reached Astrometrics. The doors slid open and they saw Seven already talking to Neelix. 

"Captain! Commander!" he said jovially as they entered his field of vision. 

"It's good to see you, Neelix." 

"How's Dexa?" asked Chakotay. 

"She and Brax are doing great. They said to say hello." 

"Tell them the crew sends their best wishes. If they could, I expect every one of them would want to be here to say goodbye, Neelix. You've meant a lot to this crew." 

"Thank you, Captain. But don't think of it as goodbye... just a 'see you later.'" He smiled. "I'm sure Seven and Harry will have the communications array improved before you've even noticed I'm gone. But just in case... I wish you a safe journey. I know you'll make it home." 

The captain felt her throat tighten. "You can count on it, Neelix." 

..... 

Captain Janeway stared across the table at her First Officer, her lips parted slightly in an expression of shock that she was unable to disguise. "I... I don't know what to say," she said slowly, setting down the wine glass that had been suspended halfway between the table and her lips. 

Chakotay smiled, but his expression was tense as he evaluated her reaction. "You could say congratulations." 

"Of course, I'm happy for you. I'm just... it's unexpected." 

"Seven and I have been dating for almost two years now. And when I came so close to losing her... it just felt right." 

"I... I guess I just never pictured Seven settling down." 

"We're very happy." 

"Yes, I can tell." She reached across the table and rested her hand on top of his. "Congratulations, Chakotay." 

The tension is his face relaxed slightly. "Then we have your blessing?" 

"Do you need it?" 

"No... but I'd like to have it. I value your opinion, Kathryn." 

"You have it." 

He squeezed her hand. "Thank you." 

..... 

The rest of their meal passed in a blur. Kathryn's mind was still spinning as she entered her quarters and immediately sunk into her favorite chair. She couldn't understand why this seemed so unreal to her. Although for nine years she had denied any possibility of a relationship with Chakotay, she had never really considered that he might move on. Even his relationship with Seven had never seemed substantial for some reason. 

She knew it was selfish, but she had always felt that she and Chakotay shared a special bond, separate from the rest of the crew. The others were free to move on, free to make new lives on Voyager, as Tom and B'Elanna had. But not her... she had responsibilities, responsibilities that kept her isolated. She was the captain; romantic involvements just didn't enter into her job description. But Chakotay had always been there with her, always supported her, always stood by her side. 

And now he was making a life of his own. He had someone else to stand by. 

Somehow, she felt betrayed. She knew it wasn't fair. Chakotay deserved every happiness he could find... but that thought didn't make her feelings of loss and abandonment go away. 

She had never seen him look so happy. And she had never felt quite so alone in all her life. 

..... 

Captain Janeway strode into Astrometrics, still smoothing the wrinkles out of the uniform she had hastily put on after being woken by the summons. Icheb, Harry and Seven stopped what they were doing as she entered. 

"What is it?" 

"Our long range scans have picked up something," said Harry. 

She joined them at the console facing the screen and nodded. The display resolved into the sector Voyager was traveling through. The view pulled back, farther and farther, until there were too many stars to count and the ship was a pinprick. Then Harry touched a button and green flooded the display. The color reflected in the captain's eyes as she inhaled sharply and muttered under her breath the two words she had hoped never to have to utter again. 

"Borg space." 

..... 

B'Elanna looked around the table incredulously. "Please tell me this is a joke." 

"I'm afraid not," replied Seven. 

"I don't understand," said Tom. "I thought we were past Borg space." 

"So did I," said Seven. "I have no knowledge of any Borg inhabitation of this part of the Delta Quadrant. Neither does Icheb." 

"Could these be drones from Unimatrix Zero?" asked the Doctor. 

"No. The sensor readings are consistent with completely assimilated drones belonging to the Collective." 

"How there could be an area of Borg space this vast that Seven and Icheb weren't aware of?" asked Chakotay. 

"The Borg could easily overtake a region of space of this size in under four years," replied Seven. 

"But why?" asked Harry. "Until now, we've never seen them colonize another area of space of this magnitude before." 

"Until we have more data," said Seven, "we shouldn't waste our time with idle speculation." The ex-drone swiveled her chair to face one of the display screens on the wall, which now showed a scan of the Borg-occupied region of space. "Our scans show that we will cross the border of the Borg space approximately six weeks from now. They currently occupy at least seven hundred solar systems, and appear to be expanding." 

"How long will it take us to go around?" asked Tom. 

Captain Janeway clasped her hands and leaned forward with her elbows on the table. "We're not going around." 

An ominous silence fell around the table. 

"Excuse me?" demanded B'Elanna after a few seconds. 

"We're not going around," repeated the captain. "It could take as many as ten years and I refuse to give the Borg that satisfaction. We're going through." 

"But --" began Tom. 

"That's an order, Mr. Paris." If the dissention amongst her staff disconcerted her, she didn't show it as she rose and began circling the table slowly. "Tuvok, Harry -- I want a detailed analysis of our tactical systems and how they could be upgraded or modified to fight the Borg. They've doubtless adapted to our usual bag of tricks, so we'll be needing some new ones. B'Elanna, same goes for Engineering -- every ounce of power you can get out of the engines will be critical. The faster we can cross this expanse, the better. Doctor, I want you to focus on trying to fight the Borg on their own terms, using modified nanoprobes." 

"Do you mean some sort of biological weapon?" 

"Some way we can defend ourselves if we need to. Seven, Icheb -- your knowledge of the Borg will be invaluable. Give Tuvok, Harry, and the Doctor all the assistance you can, but I want to know as much as possible about this region of space before we enter it so continue your scans in Astrometrics. Chakotay, I want all nonessential personnel reassigned and everyone pulling double shifts until further notice." Reaching the head of the table, she stopped and met each of their gazes in turn. "I have full confidence that each and every one of you will give me your best. I've come to expect nothing less. Dismissed." 

The senior staff rose from their seats with obvious reluctance and slowly filed out of the room one by one until only Chakotay remained. The captain showed little surprise when she looked up and saw him standing halfway across the room, scrutinizing her. 

"Did you have something to add, Commander?" 

He frowned at her tone. "Have you consulted Starfleet about this? I find it hard to believe they would approve of you taking us through Borg territory." 

"You're right, they wouldn't." 

"So you haven't told them." 

"They wouldn't understand. They're not out here." 

"No, they're not. But you and I are, and we've been at this crossroads before." 

"Yes, we have." 

"The difference is, last time you consulted me before you made a decision." 

"Last time, it wasn't an easy decision." 

"I see." 

"It's already taken us _ten years_ to get this far, Chakotay. I'm not going to add another ten just because the Borg have acquired some new real estate." 

"It's not that simple and you know it. We have no idea how what we could be facing. Holding our course could mean suicide." 

She stiffened. "We've dealt with the Borg before." 

"A few cubes here and there," he agreed. "And we rescued Seven from Unimatrix One... but this is different. This isn't a stealth raid with a small vessel, or a skirmish where we could retreat if things didn't go our way." He paused. "When we encountered that nebula filled with Borg cubes, you said it was too big of a risk to take. How is this any different?" 

"We would have been up against dozens, hundreds of cubes at a time," she returned. "That's different." 

"We could very well get into a predicament like that crossing Borg space and you know it, Kathryn. It could take years to cross this expanse. Are you prepared to put the crew through that?" He took a step towards her and lowered his voice. "Are you prepared to put yourself through that?" 

"I didn't say it would be easy, Chakotay." 

"No, you didn't. You didn't say much of anything -- you just decided that we were doing this." 

"I'm the captain. That's my job." 

"To make decisions in the best interests of your crew, I agree." 

Her eyes flashed. "If you have something to say, Commander, I suggest you say it." 

He took another step towards her. "I think you're letting your vendetta against the Borg and your guilt over our being out here in the first place get the better of you." 

"You think we should just give up? Let the Borg chase us around the quadrant?" 

"I think you should at least consider options other than taking us right through the heart of Borg territory!" 

She looked at him for several seconds. When she spoke, her voice was unnervingly calm. "I've considered our options. And I've made my decision." 

He took a deep breath and looked around the room before turning back to her, his expression softened. He reached forward to touch her arm. "Kathryn --" 

She pulled her arm away. "Dismissed," she said, her voice cold and emotionless. 

She took her seat at the head of the table and turned her attention to a PADD in front of her. He waited for a few moments, but when she continued to ignore him, he took a deep breath and started to leave. When he reached the door, he paused and turned around. "It's dangerous, Kathryn." 

She set down the PADD and looked up at him. "I'm aware of the risks." 

"I'm sure you are. Maybe you should ask yourself if you're prepared for the consequences." 

With that, he turned and left the conference room, leaving her alone with her thoughts. 

..... 

"Structure. Logic. Function. Control. Structure cannot stand without a foundation." Tuvok reached forward and placed a trapezoidal block on his growing Kathira. "Logic is the foundation of function." He added another block. "Function is the essence of control." And another. "I am in control. I am in con--" 

He winced as the chime to his quarters sounded. He took a deep breath and reached for another block. "Structure. Logic. Function. Control. Structure cannot stand without --" 

The chime sounded again. "Enter," he said tersely, setting down the block in his hand. 

The doors slid open and Captain Janeway stepped in. "I'm sorry," she said when she saw him sitting in front of the Kathira. "I didn't mean to interrupt your meditation. I can come back later, if you'd like." 

He rose, pulling his meditation robes towards him to avoid upsetting the half-completed structure. "Not at all, Captain." He motioned for her to sit as he made his way towards the replicator. "May I assume you are troubled by our current situation?" 

She smiled slightly to herself. "You may." 

"Vulcan spice tea, hot," he ordered. 

She massaged her temple with one hand. "I keep expecting to wake up and find that all this was just a really bad dream. I wasn't prepared to face this hurdle again after so many years." She took the tea from him as he sat across from her. "Thank you." 

"I must admit that I am surprised at your visit, Captain. I might have expected you to seek my counsel before making a decision, not afterwards." 

She sighed. "You're not the first one to disagree with me, and I doubt you'll be the last." 

"I did not say I disagreed with you. I merely noted that it is unlike you to question yourself after you have chosen a course of action." 

"I guess I just wanted to hear someone say I had chosen the right course of action." 

"That is also unlike you." 

"I know," she said with a hint of a smile. "That's why it's bothering me." She sighed. "I'm responsible for our being out here... and I'm wondering if that's making me turn away from the safer path in the hopes of reaching the Alpha Quadrant sooner." 

"To ease your guilt." 

"Yes." 

"I have never known you to attempt to relieve your own guilt at the expense of others, Captain. I do not believe you are capable of it." 

"Not consciously, perhaps." 

"In either case, your logic is flawed." 

"Oh?" 

"You are assuming that avoiding Borg space is a safer course of action. It would be illogical to base your decision on the consequences of encountering the Borg when we do not know what the consequences of not encountering the Borg could be." 

She frowned. "I don't understand." 

"Your argument is that circumventing Borg space would be safer, but you have no basis for this claim. Even the more dangerous path may lead to events which will benefit the crew." 

"Such as when we encountered the Borg the first time." 

"Precisely. Voyager was endangered, but it led to our rescue of Seven of Nine, which has in turn saved us on numerous occasions. Our encounters with the Borg have also forced us to develop new tactical systems which have benefited us in other situations. There is no guarantee that there would not be catastrophic events along a supposedly safer path. A Vulcan philosopher once said, 'You cannot know the path you walk until it lies behind you.'" 

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty," said Janeway. "A human philosophy," she added when she saw Tuvok's raised eyebrow. 

"Indeed. Each choice will have its consequences and rewards, some of which we will not be able to anticipate until they are already in motion. My Kathira, for example." He examined the symmetrical half-built structure. "Each block that I place influences how the structure will form, but I will not understand that influence until the Kathira is complete." 

She sighed. "This isn't very helpful, Tuvok." 

"My point was merely that your assumption that Voyager will be 'safe' if we avoid Borg territory is flawed. In this situation, I believe another human philosophy may be the most appropriate." 

"And what human philosophy would that be?" 

"Trusting your instinct." 

"I never thought I would hear a Vulcan recommend following an instinct." 

"It is a quality often overlooked and superseded by logic, yet one which can possess a logic of its own. I have also come to appreciate your instincts, Captain, as they more often than not prove to be accurate." 

She leaned forward and affectionately patted him on the arm. "You know, Tuvok, even after all these years, every once in a while you can still surprise me." 

His only reply was a raised eyebrow as she rose to leave. He accompanied her to the door. 

"Thank you for the advice," she said as he paused in the doorway. 

"You are welcome, Captain." 

When the doors hissed shut behind her, he turned back to the peaceful solitude of his quarters and resumed his position in front of the Kathira. The focus which it had taken him several hours to achieve had been severely disrupted by the interruption. He slowly picked up another block and moved to place it. "Structure. Function. Logic. Control. Structure cannot stand without a foundation...." 


	3. Part Three: 2381

DISCLAIMER: Paramount's, not mine. If only. 

**Lead Me Through the Fire**

**Part Three**

Captain Janeway tugged at the hem of her dress uniform, then ran her hands down the front to smooth it out. Chin high, she examined her reflection in the window of the darkened mess hall. She looked every bit the distinguished Starfleet captain. 

She had been wondering for months how she would feel when this day finally came, but she was completely calm. It had taken several sleepless nights of self-examination, but she had come to terms with Chakotay and Seven's relationship. After all, it had been her adherence to Starfleet protocol that had prevented her and Chakotay from becoming involved. He had refrained from pursuing her out of respect for her beliefs. If she felt abandoned and alone now, she had no one to blame but herself. 

But she didn't blame herself. In another time, another place, things might have turned out differently... but stranded out here in the Delta Quadrant, there was no other way it could have been. And if a relationship between her and Chakotay was impossible, why shouldn't he move on and find happiness with someone else? 

Even so, the reflection in the window was a lonely one. The remains of the decorations from the ceremony were strewn about the empty mess hall and it looked as empty and forlorn now as it had appeared full of life and promise only a few hours before. 

She studied the image in the window for a few more long moments. She closed her eyes slowly, allowing herself one last moment of regret before she opened them again, this time looking past the reflection at the stars streaking by the window. 

Wrapping her fingers around her coffee mug, taking comfort in its familiar contours and unaware that the liquid inside was long cold, she closed her eyes again and listened for the faint throbbing of the warp engines. The sound of her ship always had a way of calming her. Listening to Voyager was like meditation. 

Her reverie was interrupted by the noise of Chell moving around in the galley, shutting it down for the night. During the many late nights she had spent in the mess hall staring at the stars and thinking, she had come to know the sounds well. She heard him emerge from the galley, but kept her gaze fixed on the window. 

"Is there anything else I can get for you, Captain? I think there's still some Krevallan fudge cake left." 

"I'm fine, thank you." 

The Bolian remained where he was standing for a few seconds, then nodded. "Goodnight, Captain." 

"Goodnight." 

She heard the doors close behind him and let out a sigh without realizing it. She moved over to the couch and sank down into it, her hands still wrapped around her cold coffee mug. After a few minutes had passed, she heard the mess hall doors open again. She turned around, expecting to see Harry Kim. Their late night encounters in the mess hall, originally brought on by recurring insomnia, had become a somewhat regular occurrence. 

Instead of her Operations officer, she saw the Doctor standing a few meters inside the doorway, watching her. 

"Doctor. What can I do for you?" One side of her mouth curled up in a hint of a smile. "I assume you didn't come here looking for a midnight snack." 

"I thought you might like some company." 

Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as she tried to unravel his meaning, but her expression softened when met with his honest, caring expression and she realized that she was not the only one on board who had watched someone she cared about move on without her. He knew. She would never admit it for her part, but he knew that too. 

She smiled and patted her hand on the couch next to her. "Have a seat." 

He complied, and opened his mouth as if to say something, but then thought better of it. Instead they sat in silence, watching the stars fly by. 

..... 

_Captain's Log, Stardate 57349.4. It's been ten days since we crossed into Borg space. So far, all we've seen of the Borg are a few cubes on long range sensors. Hopefully, Mr. Kim's shield modifications will keep it that way. The lack of a reception, as it were, is making me more confident in my decision, but I mustn't let myself become complacent. This could very well be the calm before the storm... I only hope we will weather it as well as we have in the past. _

_Although the crew is handling this latest challenge as well as can be expected, morale has suffered since we lost our commlink with the Alpha Quadrant a few weeks ago. We still can't be certain whether this is a deliberate Borg tactic or just random interference, but having our contact with home cut off after so long has hit the crew hard. I must admit, however, not having to explain our little trek through Borg territory to Starfleet has come as somewhat of a relief. _

..._Computer, delete last entry._

..... 

Harry Kim glanced over his shoulder as Captain Janeway, Chakotay and Tuvok entered Astrometrics. "What is it, Ensign?" she asked tersely. 

"We've got company." 

"I thought they hadn't shown any sign they'd noticed us." 

"So did I." Harry pulled up a display on the screen. "We didn't see them until we managed to extend the sensor range." 

Captain Janeway's eyes narrowed as a new set of readings appeared on the screen. "They're shadowing us." 

"It certainly looks that way." 

"What reason would the Borg have for following Voyager?" asked Chakotay. "I thought they didn't react until they perceived something as a threat." 

"Obviously," said Seven, "they perceive Voyager as a threat regardless of our actions." 

"The Borg Queen?" 

Seven acknowledged the captain with a nod. "It seems likely that she is behind this behavior." 

Janeway remained silent, taking in every detail of the sensor scans on the screen in front of her. 

"We could change course, try and lose them," suggested Chakotay. 

"That would alert them that they have been detected," said Seven. "It would be wiser to keep the advantage of surprise on our side." 

Captain Janeway nodded. "I'll take any advantage we can get. Continue your scans and keep me posted." She frowned as she scrutinized the display. "I want to know what they're up to." 

..... 

Seven of Nine's footsteps echoed down the corridor as she walked. The hallways were empty and a strange hush hung in the air. 

She saw a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Her pace slowed to a halt and she slowly turned around, searching for whatever it was she had seen. 

The corridor was empty. 

She continued walking, faster this time. She could feel eyes on her, following her as she quickened her pace. 

_Seven of Nine_. 

She froze. Her eyes darted in every direction, searching for the source of the ominous whisper. 

_Seven of Nine, tertiary adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One._

She turned and began running down the corridor, trying to fight off the wave of inexplicable terror washing over her. She rounded a corner and saw a Borg drone further down the hallway, examining a control panel. She immediately stopped and took several steps backward, but she had been spotted. The drone turned and began walking towards her. 

She took off in the opposite direction, but as soon as she made it around the bend in the corridor she saw another drone coming towards her. She ran back again, looking for another passageway for refuge. 

There were none. She was trapped. 

She looked back and forth between the drones closing in on her from both sides. She backed up against the wall, her heart hammering mercilessly against her ribcage. 

A pair of hands grabbed her from behind and she whipped around to find herself face to face with the Borg Queen. She struggled to free herself, but the Queen's grip on her upper arms was ironclad. 

The other two drones reached them. Each took one of her arms and pulled her away from the Queen, pinning her against the opposite wall. 

The Queen moved towards her, raising her arm to the level of Seven's neck. 

"No," she pleaded, struggling. "No!" 

The matriarch smiled and wordlessly extended her arm to its full length. Her assimilation tubules extended in a flash and punctured the tender flesh just above Seven's collar bone... 

She awoke with a start and sat up. Something touched her shoulder and she whirled around, startled. 

"Seven?" Chakotay was sitting up as well, his expression concerned. 

"I..." She reached up and felt for puncture marks on her neck but her fingers brushed over smooth, unblemished skin. She took a long, deep breath. "It's nothing. I had a nightmare." 

..... 

The Borg Queen closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, absorbing the new information. After several seconds, she opened her eyes again and glared at the image of Voyager on the display screen before her. 

It hadn't been enough... this time. But there would be other attempts, and eventually, she would succeed. 

..... 

_Point, Seven of Nine. Match, Seven of Nine,_ recited the computer impartially. 

Captain Janeway rested her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. "You've been practicing." 

Seven didn't attempt to conceal her sly smile. "A little." 

"More than a little." 

"Perhaps my superior visual acuity and stamina are finally paying off." 

The captain straightened up with a chuckle. "Another game?" 

"Icheb and I are upgrading the sensor array at 1500 hours." 

"Another time, then." She picked up a towel from the sidelines and mopped the back of her neck. The fourteen rounds had taken a toll on her; she certainly wasn't getting any younger. The Starfleet-issue tank top she was wearing was drenched in sweat. 

They left the holodeck together and started down the hall. "We should do this more often," commented the captain. "I remember when we never went more than a week without having a game." 

"I don't believe we've had a match since before Chakotay and I became involved." Captain Janeway slowed to a stop and scrutinized her companion. "Merely an observation, Captain." 

Janeway smiled and resumed walking. "Of course. Well, I think it's time we got back into the habit. Rematch next week, same time?" she asked as they reached the intersection where they would part. 

The bulkheads jerked violently under their feet, throwing the Captain into the wall with a loud thud. She regained her balance and hit her commbadge. "Janeway to the bridge. Report." 

_We are under attack by the Borg cubes that have been following us,_ Tuvok replied. 

She fingered her shoulder. It felt like it might be dislocated. "I'm on my way." She nodded to Seven and they started towards the turbolift that would take them to the bridge. 

..... 

_Captain's Log, Stardate 57386.5. Engineering teams have nearly finished the repairs after our first encounter with the Borg. There was a hull breach on deck 10 and considerable damage to several key systems, but fortunately there were no severe injuries among the crew aside from a few broken bones and some sprains. However, I fear this may be only be the beginning of what the Borg are capable of inflicting on us._

..... 

Seven of Nine found herself walking down a familiar corridor that seemed to be leading nowhere. She had a feeling it was supposed to be taking her somewhere, but around every bend and turn it seemed to stretch out endlessly before her. There were no doors, no intersecting passageways, and the only sound was a distant noise of grinding machinery that seemed out of place in a starship corridor. 

When she turned another corner, she saw a young girl with blond hair standing in the middle of the hallway. 

"Hello," said Seven. "Do you know how to get out of here?" 

The young girl nodded. 

"Can you show me?" 

She shook her head. "You have to stop them." 

"Stop who?" 

"Them." Without any further explanation, the child stepped forward and took Seven's hand, leading her down the corridor again. 

"What's your name?" 

"Annika," said the girl. "What's yours?" 

"Seven." 

"That's a strange name." 

They continued in silence. The sound of machinery grew louder until they turned a bend and reached a set of large double doors. The young girl pulled Seven towards them and the doors slid open. 

On the other side of the doors was Voyager's Main Engineering, but it was swarming with Borg drones. They were attacking consoles everywhere, smashing the displays with detached Borg limbs that they were swinging like hammers, while other drones were pulling wiring out of conduits. A large group was gathered around the warp core, the source of the noise she had heard. A large drill was set up perpendicular to the core and was slowly boring through the casing that housed the antimatter stream, throwing sparks and smoke everywhere. 

"What are they doing?" asked Seven. 

"Looking." She looked up at Seven. "You have to stop them." 

"There are too many." 

"You have to stop them," she insisted. 

"How?" 

The child glanced around, then beckoned her closer with her finger. Seven leaned over and Annika stood on her tiptoes until her mouth was next to Seven's ear. 

"Wake up," she whispered. 

Seven's eyes snapped open and she sat up with a jolt. Her heavy breathing echoed in the stillness of her quarters. She glanced at the bed next to her, but Chakotay was still sound asleep. 

She shivered and lay down again, pulling the covers up to her chin and closing her eyes, though she knew she would not find sleep again tonight. 

..... 

The red pulsing glow of the red alert lights cast ominous shadows on the bridge. 

"Report!" snapped Captain Janeway as the ship lurched under their feet again. 

"I am detecting three more cubes on an intercept course," said Tuvok. 

"Bridge to Engineering," she snapped. "How long until you can restore warp?" 

_There was a power surge in the antimatter injectors,_ replied B'Elanna over the comm. _We're working on replacing the power manifold to get the core back online._

The bridge shuddered as one of the two cubes attacking them fired again. The console displays flickered. 

"We just lost another chunk of the power grid," said Harry. "Auxiliary power is holding." 

"Return fire." 

"Primary phaser couplings are offline," responded Tuvok. "Switching to secondary systems." 

Voyager alternated firing at its two pursuers, with little effect. 

"Tom, evasive maneuvers, pattern gamma four." 

"Aye, Captain." 

The helmsman's deft piloting wasn't quick enough to avoid the next onslaught. Tom had to grip his console to stay in his seat as the bulkheads vibrated under the impact. 

"Photon torpedoes are offline," reported Tuvok. "Shields are at 58 percent." 

"Tom!" 

He shook his head in frustration. "I can't outmaneuver them at this range." 

Another pair of torpedoes collided with the shields protecting the saucer section, throwing the crew off balance. 

"Damage report," snapped Chakotay. 

"Hull breach on deck six," said Harry after a few seconds. "Fires on decks five, nine, and fourteen." 

"Shields are at 47 percent," said Tuvok. 

The captain turned to Ops. "Can we beam a torpedo onto one of the ships?" 

Harry studied his readouts. "I can't penetrate their shields." 

"Tuvok, fire at will. Tom, do your best to keep us out of their sights." 

"Aye, Captain." 

"Our phasers do not appear to be having an effect," reported Tuvok. 

"It may be possible to modulate our transporters to match the Borg shields," said Seven. 

"Their shields are encrypted on a rotating frequency," Harry replied. "We'd never be able to match long enough to get a lock." 

"Try," snapped the captain. 

Seven moved over to join Harry at Ops. She began scanning the Borg cube, then started experimenting with the transporters. As she worked, she found her fingers were flying over the console almost instinctively. 

Harry was unable to hide his shock when he saw the readout on his display. "We're matching their frequency -- I've got a lock." 

The bridge rocked under the impact of another torpedo. 

"Energizing." 

The cubes continued their barrage of fire. After a few seconds, an explosion was visible inside one of the cubes. A chain reaction of other blasts quickly engulfed the cube, which burst apart in a fiery inferno. The massive explosion expanded to consume the other cube, which virtually disintegrated before their eyes. 

The bridge crew stood in momentary shock, disbelieving of their success. Captain Janeway turned to Ops. "Well done, both of you." 

"Seven deserves the credit. I don't know how she matched their shield frequency so quickly." 

The captain smiled, but Seven shifted uncomfortably. 

_Engineering to bridge_, came B'Elanna's voice over the comm. _We've restored warp._

"Your timing is impeccable, Lieutenant," said Janeway. "Good work." 

"The other three cubes are not yet within weapons range," reported Tuvok 

"Sounds like a good time to leave," she replied. "Mr. Paris, get us out of here -- warp 9." 

..... 

Seven made her way around the injured crew crowding Sickbay as her eyes scanned the room with the efficiency of a drone. When they settled on their object, she made her way across the room, glancing uneasily at the serious injuries of her crewmates. The seven years since her deassimilation had not made her any more comfortable with her own vulnerability. 

The Doctor was occupied treating plasma burns on one of the Engineering crew and didn't notice her. "Doctor?" 

He looked up at her, a concerned frown wrinkling his holographic forehead. "Seven. Are you injured?" 

"No. I need to speak with you." 

He returned to treating his patient. "I'm busy, Seven. It will have to wait." 

"It's urgent." 

He paused again and scrutinized her. Seven rarely exaggerated. He reluctantly set down his dermal regenerator and nodded for her to follow him to his office. 

"What is it?" he asked. 

"I need you to scan my cortical implant." 

He frowned. "Why?" 

"To determine if I am in contact with the Collective... or more to the point, if they are in contact with me." 

His frown deepened, but he picked up a tricorder and began scanning her. "What prompted these suspicions?" 

She stood perfectly still while he scanned her but her eyes were uneasy, roving his office. "I should not have been able to match the cube's shield modulations. Yet I knew precisely how to match their frequencies." 

"Sounds like you have sharp instincts, nothing more. And let's not forget you have some experience with Borg technology." 

"Some," she agreed with a hint of levity in her voice. She paused, attempting to explain herself. "It was as if I could see the algorithms controlling the shield frequency. It's the only explanation I can think of for my being able to counter them so quickly." 

He studied his tricorder. "I'm not detecting anything out of the ordinary." He tried a smile. "Perhaps you're merely underestimating your abilities." 

"There's more. I've been having nightmares." 

"Perfectly natural, now that you're not regenerating as often. Dreaming is a part of the human sleep cycle. A necessary part, at that." 

Seven didn't look reassured. "I have experienced dreams before, Doctor. These are different. They're... unsettling," she said, unable to find a better word. 

"Tell me about them." 

"I am frightened. I think I am being pursued." 

"And?" 

"That's all I can remember." 

"It's very rare that you can tell you're dreaming when you're dreaming. That's what makes it such a vivid experience." 

She forced a smile. "Perhaps you're right." She looked back out at the crowded Sickbay. "I'm sorry I wasted your time." 

"Not at all." He touched her arm in a gesture of concern. "If you experience any more of these nightmares, come see me." 

"Thank you. I will." 

..... 

The sea of consciousness that was the Borg Collective focused under the guidance of the Queen, bending to her direction. Her frustration fell away as a new idea emerged. 

If she could not get the information she needed, then the information would have to come to her. 

The seeds could soon be planted. It was only a matter of time before they were brought to fruition. 

Only a matter of time. 

..... 

The torpedo casing was obsidian black and cold to the touch. Captain Janeway let the tingling sensation creep up her fingers, feeling the iciness seep into her veins. 

Three black cylinders. 

Three coffins. 

Three officers who would never see Earth again. 

Two Borg spheres had come out of nowhere when Voyager had dropped out of warp to make repairs in Engineering. The damage from the surprise attack had been severe. Several major systems were still offline, over two dozen crewmembers had suffered serious injuries, and three -- Lieutenant Baxter, Ensign Sharr, and Ensign Hickman -- had died. 

The captain withdrew her hand and stepped back to join the rest of her senior staff. 

"All hands," said Chakotay, "attention." 

Four security officers stepped forward and one by one, the bodies of their fallen comrades were loaded into the torpedo shaft and committed to the black void of space. 

As the crew dispersed, Captain Janeway wandered away on her own. Her eyes were drawn to the melted and deformed bulkheads in one corner of the cargo bay. The plasma fire that had killed her three officers had been in the adjoining cargo bay. A plasma conduit had ruptured, and the resulting fire had spread quickly, cutting off any avenue of escape. By the time help had arrived it was too late. 

She looked up to see Tuvok join her. "This shouldn't have happened. Those conduits should have been better reinforced to withstand an attack." 

"I suspect there is a great deal of damage of which we are unaware until something malfunctions." 

"I was under the impression we had engineers to prevent that sort of thing," she snapped. "Find out who was responsible for maintenance of that section." 

"Unless there was severe misconduct that lead to the rupture of the plasma conduit, Captain, I fail to see the logic in attempting to assign blame for what upon first examination was an unfortunate consequence of a severe attack." 

"The crew needs to know that this isn't acceptable." 

"I'm sure the crew are well aware that negligence is not acceptable." He watched as she paced impatiently beside him, her frustration obvious. "And may I venture to observe, Captain, that blaming one of the crew will not bring back the three officers who lost their lives in the attack. Nor, I doubt, will such efforts improve your state of mind." 

"My state of mind --" she began harshly, but faltered. She took a deep, calming breath. "You're right, of course. It's just..." She sighed and massaged her temple. "This isn't good enough. The Borg have us outgunned, outnumbered, and they always seem to be three steps ahead of us." 

"It would seem that our current tactics are insufficient." 

"You're damn right they are." She looked towards the now empty torpedo bay. "I don't like losing people, Tuvok." 

She didn't expect an answer, and he didn't give one. 

"It's time we started adapting," she said finally. 

..... 

Captain Janeway strode into the briefing room and took her place at the head of the table without acknowledging her staff. She set down her customary cup of coffee, leaned forward with her hands on the table, and announced: "Seven and I have come up with a plan that should keep the Borg off our tails." She nodded to Seven, who pulled up an image of a Borg cube on one of the wall displays. The view delved deep into the cube, coming to a halt near the center of the vessel and focusing on a diamond-shaped structure that pulsed with a green glow. "We're going to steal one of these." 

B'Elanna's eyes widened. "A Borg vinculum? You can't be serious, Captain." 

Captain Janeway's expression was enough to assure everyone at the table that she was completely serious. 

"Correct me if I'm wrong," said Tom, "but the last time we toyed with one of those we nearly blew up half of Engineering." 

"Our target isn't the vinculum itself," replied Seven. "Just the transceiver." 

"And how will a vinculum transceiver assist us in evading the Borg?" asked Tuvok. 

"The vinculum connects drones to the Collective," explained Seven. "However, it also allows the Collective to pinpoint the location of every cube. If we had a vinculum transceiver and fed it input from some of our systems --" 

B'Elanna snorted. "We'd save the Borg the trouble of having to look for us." 

"We would appear to the Collective as a Borg vessel." 

"How do you propose we obtain this transceiver?" asked Tuvok. 

"We're going to take it," replied the captain. 

He raised an eyebrow. "Naturally." 

"Could we get a vinculum from the wreckage of a cube?" asked B'Elanna. 

"The vinculum would likely be very badly damaged," said Seven. "It will be easier to modify a transceiver taken from a functioning cube." 

"Just not as easy to get," observed Harry. 

"We have identified a potential target," said Seven. She pulled up a map of the sector on a display. A flashing dot indicated a Borg cube. "A class 4 survey cube." 

"It looks like there are other cubes in the vicinity," observed Chakotay. "We don't want them calling for help." 

"If we intercept them here," she said, indicating an area on the cube's projected course, "the other two ships will be out of range. We would be long gone before any assistance arrived." 

"Won't the Borg detect us as soon as we board the cube?" asked Tom. 

"What about the Hansens' stealth technology?" said Harry. 

Seven shook her head. "It's likely the Borg have adapted to them." 

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, by all means let's give up, then." 

"I wasn't suggesting we give up. But we won't be able to rely on our previous tactics. We'll have to come up with new methods of avoiding detection." She raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps if you contributed your expertise rather than criticizing my observations...." 

The young operations officer's expression darkened. "Seven, if you've got something to say, then --" 

"We'll find a way to get around the cube without being detected," interrupted Captain Janeway, her tone dictating that the discussion was at an end. "We'll also need to get within transporter range without the cube sounding the alarm." 

Tom leaned forward. "Harry and I have been working on some simulations for shield modifications for the Delta Flyer. We've been calling them stealth shields." 

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "I see, Mr. Paris, that you have not lost your flare for nomenclature." 

He ignored the dig. "They're based on ancient aviation technology that was used on spy planes, before we had modern sensors that could penetrate accurately through the atmosphere. We've found a way to modify our shields to absorb the energy emitted by sensor scans, making us virtually invisible." 

"But so far, in our simulations we've only been able to get the shield generator to hold out for twenty minutes or so before it gets overloaded," added Harry with a resentful sideways glance at Seven. "That won't be enough time." 

"I disagree," said Seven. She turned towards Captain Janeway. "We could board the cube and remove the vinculum in that time frame." 

"What about overcoming resistance?" asked Harry. 

"If we develop a way to remain undetected inside the cube, there shouldn't be any resistance," she retorted. 

"If there's one thing we've learned dealing with the Borg, it's that something always goes wrong." He looked to Captain Janeway for support, but she didn't acknowledge him. 

She remained thoughtful for several moments before she spoke. "Everything we've done so far... it isn't enough. This is our best chance to gain an advantage over the Borg, and we're going to take it. Start working on a way to avoid detection once we're inside the cube, and continue the simulations of those shield modifications. Seven, keep me informed on the movements of that cube -- I want to know if anything changes." She met the eyes of each of her staff in turn. In some she saw approval, in some grudging support, in others restrained defiance, but her expression didn't change as her gaze moved around the table. "Get it done." 

..... 

The chime of her ready room door brought Captain Janeway out of her deep concentration, but she called her acceptance without taking her eyes off the Borg cube schematics she was studying on her computer screen. She recognized the familiar steps as she reached for a PADD, still without breaking eye contact with the screen. 

Chakotay approached her desk and handed her a PADD, not requiring her acknowledgement. "Harry and Tom's latest simulations of the shield modifications. They look promising, but they haven't managed to extend the twenty minute window yet." 

She accepted the report and gave it a cursory glance before setting it down with a satisfied nod. 

Chakotay remained in place. He had more to discuss with her but was determined to wait for her undivided attention. After a few moments, she became aware of his continued silence and knowing what it meant she reluctantly gave in, closing the schematic and leaning back in her chair. She fixed him with a decidedly unwelcome stare. "Go ahead." 

He frowned. "Captain?" 

"Go ahead. Tell me I'm wrong. That this is too risky. That we should just stand back and let the Borg pulverize my ship, injure and kill members of my crew." 

His eyes narrowed at her hostility. "You're right about one thing at least: I don't think this is a good idea." 

She huffed and stood up abruptly, nearly upsetting her chair. "You're not in my position," she snapped as she strode with brisk steps towards the windows. "These people's lives aren't on your shoulders." 

"The hell they're not. This is my crew too, Kathryn, and don't you accuse me of not caring about their welfare. But this isn't the way to save them." He moved up to join her on the landing. "Taking risks like this isn't going to bring back the ones who've died." 

"No, but it could prevent it from happening to others." 

"Or it could get a lot of people hurt, or worse." She shot him a sideways glare as she stood with her arms crossed facing the window, but he plowed forward. "Kathryn, we've escaped from under the Borg Queen's thumb twice now. Do you really expect us to get away with it a third time?" 

She shook her head. "We need to do this, Chakotay. We can beat them." 

"That's the difference between us, Kathryn. I want to win... to survive. You want to beat them." 

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting this is some kind of vendetta on my part?" 

"You tell me." 

She turned back to the window. After a long pause, she shook her head as if to clear her thoughts and turned back to him, her expression determined and defiant. "Tell Tom and Harry they have 72 hours until we're in range of the cube to get their shields out of the simulator and make them a reality." 

He followed her with disappointed eyes as she strode past him and returned to her seat behind her desk. "Captain --" 

"And inform B'Elanna we'll need five of the modified armbands once she and Seven have finished drawing up the specifications." 

That gave him pause. He could read her well enough to understand the meaning of the message. "You've chosen the away team already." 

She nodded, even though it wasn't a question. "I'll be leading the assault." 

"Security?" 

"Tuvok and Lieutenant Ayala." 

"And removing the vinculum?" 

"Harry." A beat. "And Seven." 

He studied his boots for several seconds as he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Kathryn --" 

"I understand your concern, but we need her, Chakotay. You know it as well as I do." 

He moved to the edge of her desk and leaned over it, resting his hands on the edge. "Then let me come with you." 

There was pity in her deep blue eyes but her expression remained resolute. "I need you to stay here, on Voyager." 

He stood up and turned away from her, his hands on his hips. "I'll bring her back safe and sound," she said, her voice softer. "I promise." 

There was something in his gaze that unnerved her when he turned back to look at her. "Don't make promises you don't know you can keep, Kathryn. Just..." He paused, and seemed to relax. "Never mind. I know you'll do your best. I don't think you have it in you to do any less." 

The unexpected compliment profoundly moved her, and she was sure it showed on her face. "I will." 

..... 

_Captain's Log, Stardate 57803.6. We are nearing the coordinates of our planned assault on the survey cube. B'Elanna and Seven have modified the Hansens' shielding armbands and they believe they will be sufficient to conceal our presence from the Borg long enough for us to complete our mission. Mr. Paris and Mr. Kim have successfully integrated their new shield modifications into Voyager's systems but this will be their first real test. I only hope it will be enough._

Tom checked his coordinates. "We'll be within transporter range in fifteen minutes, Captain." 

"Any sign of other Borg activity?" asked Chakotay. 

"Negative, Commander," said Tuvok. "The two cubes that were on a divergent course have now moved out of range." 

Captain Janeway rose from her chair. "Janeway to away team: meet me in transporter room two." 

_Way ahead of you, Captain,_ replied Harry over the comm. 

She started towards the turbolift, along with Tuvok, Seven, and Chakotay. Tuvok preceded her into the turbolift, and she could sense Seven and Chakotay half a step behind her. 

"Are you sure I can't change your mind?" 

She turned to answer her first officer with her usual insistence that she was going whether Starfleet captains belonged on dangerous away missions or not, but saw that he was addressing Seven. She turned away quickly so they wouldn't see her reaction, and joined Tuvok in the turbolift. 

Seven reached up and clasped Chakotay's arm with a smile. Captain Janeway couldn't hear what she said, but Chakotay nodded in resignation and stepped away from her. As Seven entered the turbolift, he turned his attention to the captain. 

"We'll beam you aboard as soon as we're within transporter range," he said. 

"Try not to stay too close, just in case." 

He nodded. "We'll beam you back at the first sign of trouble." 

"Hopefully there won't be any." 

They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds before he nodded again. "Good luck, Captain." 

"Take care of my ship." 

It was implicitly understood that she meant both in her absence and in the event that she didn't come back. 

"I always do," he replied. 

The turbolift doors slid shut and the small chamber hummed as it moved between decks. 

When they reached the transporter room, Harry and Lieutenant Ayala were already there, checking the phaser rifles and the shielding armbands. 

Harry handed the captain her phaser rifle, and her fingers clasping the familiar grip made her feel less uneasy to be about to board a Borg cube. She and her phaser rifle had been through many a scrape together and they had always both escaped intact. 

Seven handed her an armband, which she strapped on before stepping onto the transporter pad. 

_Bridge to transporter room,_ said Chakotay over the comm. _We'll be in range in less than a minute. Are you ready?_

"Affirmative," answered Janeway. She made sure the phaser rifle was charged, then activated the armband. She checked over her shoulder and saw the rest of the away team doing the same. 

"Fifteen seconds," said Ensign Lang at the controls. She smiled. "Good luck, ma'am." 

"Thank you, Ensign." She nodded. "Energize." 

The familiar surroundings of the transporter room dissolved into a blue sheen, and after a few seconds a dark corridor of a Borg cube resolved around them. 

Captain Janeway looked around, phaser rifle at the ready, but the only sign of Borg was the metallic clanging noises echoing off the walls. "Harry?" 

He checked his tricorder. "There's a junction thirty meters this way. If we take a left that should lead us to the vinculum chamber." 

She started in the direction he indicated, the away team trailing her with their weapons poised and ready. The corridor was small and imposing, lit by a green glow spilling through the bulkheads from an unseen source. The metal plating creaked under their feet as they walked. 

The sound of footsteps approaching caught their attention. Janeway held up her hand and backed against the wall. The rest of the team followed suit. 

A single drone approached them. The captain turned and motioned for them to lower their weapons. She kept hers tightly gripped, ready to snap it upright at the first sign of danger. 

The chill of the metal seeped through her uniform as the drone drew closer, its steps unhurried. She stared into its metallic ocular implant as it passed her. The drone didn't give them so much as a glance. It continued down the passageway and they quickly lost sight of it. 

"It would appear that the modifications to the armbands were effective," observed Tuvok. 

They started again down the corridor. They turned left at the intersection based on Harry's scans, but quickly came to a another junction, this one with three passageways jutting off in different directions. "Harry?" said the captain over her shoulder. 

Harry was frowning over his tricorder. "Give me a second. I'm having trouble getting clear readings." 

"To the right," said Seven. 

Captain Janeway and Tuvok exchanged a glance. "I was not aware that all Borg cubes shared the same layout," he said after a moment. 

"They don't." 

The captain narrowed her eyes, but hoisted her phaser rifle again. "Let's go." 

Seven took the lead now, instinctively weaving them through the twisted maze of intersecting corridors. 

Captain Janeway fell into step beside Tuvok. "Is it just me, or does this seem too easy?" she asked softly. 

"I would have expected to encounter more resistance," he agreed. "Perhaps they merely have not detected us." 

"Then why does my gut tell me something is wrong?" 

Before he could answer, another turn brought them to a large set of doors. "This chamber houses the vinculum," announced Seven. 

The doors slid open of their own accord. The room was lit with a pulsing green glow emanating from the vinculum, poised in a metal scaffold in the centre of the room. 

Captain Janeway motioned to Tuvok and Lieutenant Ayala to guard the door as Seven and Harry approached the vinculum. She tapped her commbadge as Seven and Harry began taking scans of their prize. "Janeway to Voyager." 

_Go ahead,_ responded Chakotay. 

"We've located the vinculum. Harry and Seven are working on the quickest way to extract the transceiver." 

_Acknowledged. We've got a transporter lock on you when you're ready to get out of there._

"Good. Janeway out." She joined Harry and Seven as they examined the machinery in front of them. "Report," she ordered. 

"I believe we should be able to disconnect the transceiver so that it will take the Borg a few minutes to realize it's missing." 

She nodded. "Get to work." 

As they turned to their work, Captain Janeway glanced around the room, swinging her phaser rifle in front of her. She couldn't shake the feeling that this all seemed too easy, but nothing about the room that housed the vinculum seemed suspicious. She smiled to herself and lowered her weapon slightly. Maybe their luck was due for a change. 

..... 

The alarm from Ops caught Chakotay's attention instantly. "What is it?" 

B'Elanna frowned. "I just lost the transporter lock." 

"Can you reestablish it?" 

"I'm trying. The Borg have raised some sort of dampening field around the vinculum chamber. Our sensors can't penetrate it." 

"Try. Chakotay to Janeway." The silence over the comm only confirmed his fears. "B'Elanna, keep trying to penetrate that dampening field, and get the comm back." He turned to the image of the Borg cube on the viewscreen. "We need to get them out of there." 

..... 

"We've bypassed the first series of security lockouts," reported Harry. "It should only take us another minute to --" 

"Captain," interrupted Tuvok from the doorway. 

She turned around and looked past Tuvok and Lieutenant Ayala into the hallway. Three drones were approaching the vinculum chamber. She joined the two security officers at the door. 

"Keep trying to disconnect the transceiver," she ordered over her shoulder. "We'll hold them off as long as we can." 

"It is possible that they have not yet detected our presence," said Tuvok as he, Ayala, and the captain trained their weapons on the approaching drones. 

The trio stopped several meters away from the chamber. One of them looked the captain directly in the eye and she felt her blood run cold. "I don't think so," she muttered. 

The drones started towards them again. Raising her phaser rifle to chest height, Captain Janeway took aim and fired at the centre drone. He dropped to the ground with a metallic thud. 

Ayala fired at the drone on the left, striking him in the shoulder. The force of the blast spun him around, and he crashed into the wall before falling to the floor. 

Tuvok took aim at the remaining drone. He fired, but the blast was absorbed by the drone's personal shielding. "They have adapted," he observed. 

"Harry?" demanded the captain over her shoulder. 

"We're working on it!" 

Another drone stepped out of a passageway, only a few meters from the entrance to the chamber. Two more appeared further down the corridor. "Looks like we'll have to do this the old fashioned way," muttered Janeway. 

The nearest drone moved for Lieutenant Ayala, who delivered a swift uppercut with the butt of his phaser rifle and sent the drone crashing into the wall behind him. As he fell to the ground, three more drones stepped out and took his place. Behind them, another seven were moving down the corridor. 

Captain Janeway slammed her elbow into the jaw of the drone attacking her, then swung her phaser rifle around to connect with its temple. It fell to the ground, and she looked around at the drones swarming towards the chamber. "There's too many," she said, breathing heavily. She tapped her commbadge. "Janeway to Voyager." 

No response. 

"Janeway to Voyager, please respond!" 

The passageway was thick with drones now. It would be impossible to fight them all. 

Without warning, the drones stopped and stood frozen in place. She looked at Tuvok, who appeared as mystified as she was. 

Down the corridor, the drones began to step aside, parting like water to make way for something. 

The figure parting the mass of drones drew closer, and soon stepped out of the crowd to face Captain Janeway and her two officers. 

The Borg Queen. 

She smiled. "Captain. So good of you to join us." 

..... 

"B'Elanna!" 

"I'm working on it!" the half-Klingon snapped back at Chakotay. "They're modulating the dampening field faster than I can compensate!" 

"Something tells me this isn't a coincidence," observed Tom. 

"No," agreed Chakotay. "I don't think it is." 

..... 

The horrifying realization ran through Captain Janeway's veins like ice water: it was a trap. A carefully conceived, elaborate trap. 

And she had walked right into it. 

"I suppose it was too much to ask for you to stay out of trouble," continued the Borg Queen, still smiling. 

"You suppose correctly," returned the captain. 

The drones had pushed them back into the vinculum chamber and now had them surrounded, separating them both from the door and from the vinculum. 

"What do you want?" asked Janeway. 

"Information." 

She smirked. "I don't share information with Borg." 

The Queen smiled. "Not from you, Captain." She looked over her shoulder. "From her." 

Captain Janeway followed her gaze to see Seven pale almost imperceptibly. She turned back to her adversary. "Seven doesn't have any information that could help you." 

"I disagree. I think she could be of great assistance. She's been unfortunately reluctant so far to divulge anything." 

Comprehension registered on Seven's face. "You invaded my dreams," she said quietly. 

"More than your dreams. We've been with you for some time, Seven." 

"Why?" 

"To find the information we needed." 

Seven's eyes widened. "Unimatrix Zero." 

"Yes," hissed the Borg Queen. 

"What about them?" asked Harry. 

The connection between Seven and the Collective that had been brewing in her subconscious for months was growing stronger, and she knew the answer. "Their numbers have grown. They have driven the Borg out of Unimatrix One." 

"That's why you're in this part of the quadrant," said Janeway, triumph in her expression. "They've got you on the run. I guess resistance isn't futile after all." 

"Their resistance _will_ be futile," returned the Borg Queen. "They are a plague that must be purged. We will adapt, and they will be eliminated." She turned to Seven. "But in order to fight them, we require more information." 

"I do not have any information about the drones liberated from Unimatrix Zero that would assist you," said Seven. "And if I did, I would not help you fight them." 

The Queen narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the ex-drone. "What if I assimilate your captain? Or young Harry here?" 

Seven's eyes flickered to her crewmates for an instant before she met the Borg Queen's gaze again. "I don't know anything that can help you." 

"I'm afraid I don't believe you." She raised her arm towards Seven, her fingers splayed. Seven froze and stood paralyzed before the Borg Queen. 

"Seven!" said Harry. 

"What are you doing to her?" demanded Captain Janeway. 

The Queen smiled and inhaled deeply as she absorbed the new information she was extracting from Seven. "How fortunate that your doctor was never able to remove her cortical node." 

"Let her go." 

"You're unarmed and outnumbered, Captain. You're not in a position to issue orders." The Queen flicked her hand slightly, and Seven gasped, still frozen in place. She moved closer, standing inches from Seven's face which was expressionless except for the pain showing in her eyes. "Tell me what I need to know," she hissed, "and it can all end." 

"She told you, she doesn't know anything!" said Harry. 

The Queen's expression slowly changed, a mixture of disbelief and fury. "She doesn't, does she?" She smiled slightly. "All this time, I thought you were the key to eliminating them. But you are... irrelevant." 

She flicked her wrist, then lowered her arm. Seven dropped to the ground with a sickening thud. 

Captain Janeway reacted in a flash. Grabbing the arm of the drone that was standing behind her, she ducked and flipped him over her shoulder. The drone slammed into the floor, stunned. 

She turned and ripped a long metal rod from the wall next to her. Before the Borg Queen had a chance to react, Janeway had her pinned against the wall, the pipe at her throat. She leaned forward, feeling the metal starting to crush the cartilage inside the Queen's neck. 

"What's the matter?" she hissed. "Not used to anyone fighting back?" 

Without apparent effort, the Queen lifted one arm and delivered a vicious backhand that sent the captain reeling backwards, her cheek slashed open by the implants on the back of the Queen's hand. 

Tuvok and the others were fighting the drones restraining them, with limited success. Harry managed to dispatch the two nearest him, and turned back to attempting to retrieve the vinculum transceiver. 

The Queen approached Captain Janeway, who was still recovering from the earlier blow. Two drones grabbed her from behind, holding her in place as the Queen raised her arm and reached for the exposed flesh of the captain's neck. 

_Chakotay to away team, we've got a transporter lock and we're getting you out of there._

The Borg Queen's eyes widened furiously, and she lunged for Captain Janeway. Her assimilation tubules met air as the captain dissolved in a transporter beam. 

She looked around at the room, now devoid of the Voyager away team. She turned her attention to the vinculum and saw that the core had been accessed and the transceiver was missing. She could already feel the chaos beginning to spread throughout the vessel. 

She narrowed her eyes. Voyager would have to pay for this. 

..... 

Captain Janeway gasped with relief as Voyager's transporter room materialized around her. She reached out and supported herself against the wall, still dazed from her scuffle with the Queen. 

"Beam us directly to Sickbay!" Harry snapped at Ensign Lang, kneeling next to Seven's prone body. 

He and Seven dematerialized, bringing the captain back to the situation at hand. 

"Are you all right, ma'am?" asked Ensign Lang, eyeing the bleeding gash on her cheek with concern. 

"I'm fine," she said tersely, stepping off the transporter pad. "Janeway to bridge, report." 

_We've gone to warp. The Borg don't appear to be pursuing us. What happened over there?_

"Let's just say it didn't exactly go according to plan," she sighed, then hesitated. "Seven was injured." 

There was a moment of silence. _Badly?_

"You'd better get to Sickbay. I'll meet you there." 

..... 

Captain Janeway expected to see a flurry of activity when she entered Sickbay. Instead there was an ominous hush in the air and everyone was still. 

Harry and the Doctor turned when she entered, and the expressions on their faces were like a cold fist gripping her heart. She moved over to join them. "Doctor?" she asked, her voice hoarse. 

He was more shaken than she had ever seen him. "I'm sorry, Captain. There's... nothing I can do." 

A chilling numbness crept over her. She looked over the hologram's shoulder at the once vibrant young woman, now lying weak and helpless. 

"Her Borg implants are shutting down," continued the doctor. "The damage is too severe to repair." 

"What about removing the implants?" asked the captain reflexively. 

"Her autonomic nervous system is completely dependent on her cortical node. When it shuts down..." 

She nodded numbly. 

He reached over and gently squeezed her arm. "I'm sorry, Captain." 

"I'm... sure you did everything you could, Doctor." 

She stepped around him and moved over to stand next to Seven. She was conscious, but appeared to be in a great deal of pain. 

"Captain." She swallowed with difficulty. "Did we obtain the vinculum?" 

"Yes. Harry managed to retrieve it just before we beamed out." 

"I... I didn't realize that... it was a trap..." 

She could feel the tears stinging her eyes. "It wasn't your fault, Seven." 

She heard the Sickbay doors slide open and closed her eyes, knowing who it was. Chakotay's familiar steps echoed in the room as he hastily moved towards his wife. Kathryn stepped back, giving Seven's shoulder a final squeeze as Chakotay reached her side. 

He took Seven's hand and tenderly brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Hey," he whispered. 

She smiled serenely. "Chakotay." 

He looked up at the Doctor, the question no one wanted to answer in his eyes. 

The EMH slowly shook his head. "I think she was waiting for you." 

The shock on Chakotay's face was painful to watch. He looked back down at Seven, searching her face for something, anything, that belied the grim expressions of those around him. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him. 

He stroked her hair. "Shhh. It's all right." 

"I wish... I'd been able... to see Earth with you," she whispered, short of breath. 

Tears welled up in his eyes. "Don't talk like that. We're still going to see Earth. Together." 

She shook her head almost imperceptibly. "I wish... we'd had more time. To know each other." 

The tears rolled freely down his cheeks. He clutched her hand and pressed it to his chest as if he could keep her alive through willpower alone. "Seven... don't do this. You've got to fight." 

She reached up and touched the side of his face, tracing her fingers over the base of his tattoo. "I'm not afraid," she whispered. 

She let her hand fall back down to rest on her stomach. Her eyelids fluttered shut, her head rolled slightly to the side, and she lay still. Chakotay leaned over her, shedding silent tears and stroking her face, her hand still clutched tightly to his chest. 

Captain Janeway seemed unaware of the tears that were running down her face, mingling with the blood flowing from the cut on her cheek. She reached behind her, steadying herself on the biobed and trying to stop the room spinning around her. 

She felt the Doctor take her by the arm. She looked up at him, her eyes begging him to tell her that this wasn't happening. That he could save Seven. 

"We should give him a few minutes," he said instead. 

She looked over at her grieving first officer, and nodded numbly before allowing the Doctor to lead her towards his office.


	4. Part Four: 2382

DISCLAIMER: Paramount's, not mine. If only. 

**Lead Me Through the Fire**

**Part Four**

_Captain's Personal Log, Stardate 58034.7. It's been three months since Seven's death and the crew, myself included, are still feeling the effects of her loss. I don't think Seven ever knew how many lives she touched aboard Voyager. _

I'm most concerned about my First Officer, who was of course the hardest hit by the tragedy. He has kept his grieving very private, as is his nature. If it were anyone other than Chakotay, I would wonder if they were grieving at all, but I think I know him better than that. He's too private a man to share this experience with any of us, since none of us can really understand it. I can at least understand his motivations, since I might do the same in his situation, but his tendency for privacy means none of us really know how he is dealing with Seven's death. We never talk as we used to, a loss I feel almost as severely as Seven herself... it seems I've lost two of my closest friends rather than one. 

Crew morale has also suffered from the seemingly endless stream of Borg attacks. I suspect that our escape frustrated the Queen and she is out for revenge, if the Borg even experience a desire for revenge. Since she now knows we have no information regarding Unimatrix Zero that can be of use to her, I can't think of any other motivation for this persecution of me and my crew other than a vendetta. 

..... 

Chakotay sat cross-legged in the middle of his quarters, his medicine bundle spread out on the floor before him. He leaned forward and pressed his palm to the akoonah. 

"A-koo-chee-moya. I pray to the spirits to let me speak to my wife, the one whom my heart called Annika. Though she was not of our people, I believe the spirits of my ancestors would guide her and watch over her. Perhaps there is one in these skies far away from my homeworld who can find her... let her know I pray for her to find peace. A-koo-chee-moya." 

He had a vague sense of time passing, but meditation eluded him. Neither in his quarters, nor somewhere else more indistinct, he wasn't sure how many times the chime to his quarters rang before it penetrated his awareness. He looked up with a frown. "Come." 

The doors slid open with a hiss and Captain Janeway stepped tentatively inside his quarters. 

He got to his feet. "Captain. What can I do for you?" 

She attempted to hide her disappointment at his formal demeanor. "I'm here as your friend, not your captain. I wanted to... to see how you were doing." When he continued to stare at her in silence, she added, "I thought you might want to talk." 

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm fine." 

She finally noticed his medicine bundle on the floor at his feet. "I didn't realize you were meditating. If I'm interrupting...." 

He continued looking at her mutely and her composure began to waver in the face of his coldness. "You don't have to go through this alone, Chakotay." 

"You're one to talk, Kathryn. When do you ever let anyone else help you?" 

She stiffened. "You of all people should know that I do my best to --" 

"But you still try and shoulder everything alone, deal with it yourself. You of all people should respect my decision to do the same." 

Her eyes were sad. "I still wish you'd talk to me, Chakotay." 

"I tried talking to you. You didn't want to listen." 

She crossed the room, narrowing the gap between them. "I'm listening now." 

He looked out the window and took a deep breath before turning back to her. There was something in his eyes, anger perhaps, that she had only seen a handful of times and rarely directed at her. "You want to talk? Fine. This is a mistake." 

"What is?" 

"This. Going through Borg space. You always were a risk taker, Kathryn, and this time it's catching up with you." 

Her expression clouded. "You would have us give up? Forget about getting home? Or take a _ten-year_ detour?" 

"I'd have us stay alive," he snapped. "If it weren't for your stubborn streak, Seven would still be here." 

"If it weren't for my stubborn streak, Seven would still be a Borg drone," she snapped back. She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth, but it was too late. 

He looked away again. When he turned back to her, the anger in his eyes was gone, replaced with a hollow blackness that scared her for a reason she couldn't define. "I warned you there would be consequences," he said quietly. "This could only be the beginning." 

"If you have a suggestion," she said tersely, "I'm willing to hear it." 

"I don't," he admitted. "It's too late for that. You've got us in so deep, I'm not sure we'll ever get out." 

"We've got the vinculum transceiver. It's worked so far." 

"I hope it was worth the price we paid for it." 

She winced at that. She bit back another retort, and her expression softened. "She wouldn't have wanted this," she said quietly after a few moments. "She wouldn't have wanted to see us fighting over her... to see you pull away from the people who care about you." 

He stiffened. "Don't presume to know what she wanted, Kathryn. None of you knew her like I did." 

"I know. But you weren't the only one who lost her, Chakotay." Her voice wavered slightly as her carefully imposed self-control began to break down. "We need to grieve too." 

"You can't possibly compare your loss to mine." 

"I'm not trying to. But why can't we share our loss?" She stepped closer to him, reaching out to touch the side of his arm as if that might bridge the chasm between them. "I'm here for you, Chakotay. We all are. You only have to ask." He refused to meet her gaze, but she continued. "I cared for her too. I rescued her from the Collective, I fought to keep her on Voyager and make her a part of this crew, I watched as she rediscovered her humanity..." Her voice failed her. 

It seemed a long time before he spoke. "Do you know what it's like," he said quietly, "to hold someone you love and watch helplessly as they ebb away before your eyes, to regret all the things you never said?" 

"No," she whispered. 

He looked at her coldly. "Pray you never have to, Kathryn." 

She had no answer to that, and dropped her hand from his arm. She turned to leave, but paused as she neared the door and turned back. "Do you really think I don't know that I'm responsible for her death?" she said, her voice hoarse and her expression fraught with pain she no longer struggled to conceal. "Believe me, I know. And I'll have to live with that knowledge every day for the rest of my life." 

Without another word, she turned and left his quarters, unshed tears stinging her eyes. 

...... 

_Captain's Log, Stardate 58431.5. Voyager has not weathered this steady stream of Borg attacks as well as I would have liked, but thankfully the injuries to the crew have not been serious. However, our vinculum transceiver has been damaged, leaving us more vulnerable to detection than ever before._

Captain Janeway turned the damaged transceiver over in her hands. "Is there any chance you can repair it?" 

B'Elanna shook her head. "The power matrix is completely fused." 

"Without some kind of expertise in Borg technology, it will be near impossible to fix it," added Harry. 

Her lips tightened into a fine line as her thoughts naturally drifted to the Borg expert who was no longer with them. She could hear the thought weighing in Harry's voice, as well. "What about Icheb?" 

B'Elanna and Harry exchanged a skeptical glance. "I'll ask him to have a look at it," said B'Elanna. 

The captain continued scrutinizing the vinculum, her expression unreadable. "Keep working," she said finally, returning the damaged equipment to Harry. "I'd hate to lose it considering we paid such a high price to obtain it... too high," she added under her breath. 

"Aye, Captain." 

...... 

"I'm gonna getcha... I'm gonna getcha!" 

Miral Paris squealed and bounced along the couch, leaping onto the floor and darting behind another chair as her father chased her around the living room. 

He lunged at her, drawing another high-pitched squeal of enjoyment as she darted away and crawled underneath the desk against the wall. Tom crept up and snatched one of her feet, dragging her back out as she laughed. 

Slinging her over one shoulder, he proceeded to spin around until she yelled with delight, then tossed her lightly down onto the couch. 

"Again!" she demanded as Tom sunk down next to her. 

"Maybe later," he said as he caught his breath. 

"Now!" 

"Daddy's tired right now." 

Miral crossed her arms in an exaggerated pout. She looked around the room for some other form of entertainment. Finding none, she turned back to Tom and climbed onto his lap. "Where's Mommy?" 

"Working." 

"She always working!" 

"She's got a big job." 

The truth was, he hadn't seen B'Elanna for almost three days now. She had been working double and triple shifts in Engineering, trying desperately to repair the vinculum transceiver, so far without much success. They had already narrowly evaded two spheres and a survey cube, but long-range sensors -- when they were working, at least -- showed much more Borg activity in the space ahead of them with no opportunity to go around. And without the vinculum transceiver to keep them at least partially camouflaged.... 

As if reading his mind, the lights in his quarters darkened and were replaced by the throbbing scarlet of the red alert light. 

_Red alert._ The stress of the past few weeks was evident in Captain Janeway's clipped tones. _All hands to battle stations._

He sighed, but lifted Miral off his lap and plunked her down on the couch as he hit his commbadge. "Paris to Naomi Wildman." 

_On my way, Lieutenant._ Naomi, the one person on board who had nothing to do during a crisis, had taken to watching Miral during the increasingly frequent periods when Tom and B'Elanna's duties kept them both away from their daughter. 

He clipped Miral affectionately under the chin. "Daddy's gotta go. Naomi's going to come watch you but I'll be back later, and we'll play some more." 

He started for the door, but Miral jumped off the couch and caught up to him, grabbing two fistfuls of his pant leg with her chubby hands. "No, Daddy!" 

He pried her small fingers apart, releasing her grip. "Miral, let go. I can't stay." 

Tearing her hands from his clasp with surprising strength, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms completely around his leg just above the knee. "No-oo-oo!" she wailed. 

"Miral!" He attempted to wrestle her free of his leg, but she only screamed and clung tighter. "Miral, I can't --" 

"Don't go, Daddy, I'm scared!" she screamed. 

He stopped fighting with her as she began sobbing with her face pressed against his thigh. He reached down and stroked the back of her head. "Miral, sweetie...." 

She looked up at him, accusation flashing behind the tears swimming in her dark eyes. 

This time, she allowed him to pry her arms away from his leg and he knelt down to her eye level. "I know you're scared," he said, tucking a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. "But my job, and your mom's job, is to try to keep all of us safe when the scary stuff happens. You know that, right?" 

She nodded. 

"And who's the best pilot in the universe?" 

With a hint of a smile, she gently poked his shoulder. 

"Darn right. So I have to go fly the ship and keep us out of trouble. Okay?" 

She nodded again. "Come back soon?" 

He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. "Just try and stop me, kiddo." 

Climbing to his feet, he tousled her hair affectionately. "Naomi will be here soon. You just wait, and be good. All right?" 

"Yeah." 

When she looked at him, struggling to hold back her tears, Tom might not have had enough willpower to leave his quarters right then if the ship hadn't rocked under him from a torpedo blast. With one backward glance, he dashed out of his quarters and started for the bridge. 

...... 

_Captain's Log, Stardate 58549.4. We have taken refuge at the edge of a J-class nebula in order to repair some of the damage Voyager has sustained since we lost the vinculum transceiver. With the replicators offline and environmental controls fluctuating, tensions are running high and the crew is beginning to show the physical and mental strain of these constant assaults. Our power grid is functioning at 55 and the warp core is offline, making us even more vulnerable to attack._

Captain Janeway stood with her hands on her hips and her lips pressed together as she assessed the situation. The red alert siren was pulsing in the background and the illumination on the bridge was a dull crimson. 

"It is a class four sphere," Tuvok reported. "They are on a direct intercept course." 

"How long?" asked the captain. 

He checked his readouts. "They will be within weapons range in less than two minutes." 

"Janeway to Engineering. B'Elanna, what's your status?" 

_The plasma coils are completely shot. It could take hours to repair, and that's assuming we don't sustain any more damage._

"The sphere is within four million kilometers," said Tuvok. 

"Tom," said the captain as she took her seat, "you know the drill." 

"Evasive maneuvers," he responded. 

His efforts proved futile, as the cube overtook them within a matter of minutes. Captain Janeway's slender fingers dug into the armrest of her chair, her knuckles slowly turning white, as their failed attempts at evasion were punctuated by the staccato of Borg torpedoes slamming into the already weakened vessel. 

Consoles overloaded around the bridge under the onslaught and the lights began to flicker with each successive torpedo hit. 

"Shields at thirty-nine percent," announced Tuvok after a particularly strong jolt. "Our weapons are having no effect." 

Another concussion jarred the bridge, throwing them violently forward in their seats. Captain Janeway pressed her lips into a firm line, her eyes blazing as her mind worked, desperately seeking a way out of the dire situation they had found themselves in. "Mr. Kim, scan the composition of the nebula. Would it be sufficient to impair the --" She broke off as another torpedo hit threw her sideways, slamming her into the armrest of her chair with enough force that she would be sure to find a nasty bruise there in the morning. "-- Borg sensors?" she finished. 

Harry examined his readings. "It might be, but we'd have to --" Another jolt. "-- get in pretty deep. And our sensors would probably suffer the same effect." 

"Better to be hiding blind than be fighting toothless," replied the captain. The next impact was severe enough to nearly throw her out of her seat and she was hard pressed to avoid being thrown to the floor. 

"Aft shields are down!" warned Tuvok. "Lateral shields are at seventeen percent. 

"Bring us about, Mr. Paris. Head for the nebula and keep our stern out of their sight." 

"Aye aye, Captain." 

Before he was able to turn the ship, several Borg torpedoes found the unprotected aft sections of the ship. The concussions became even more violent than before, and this time the captain wasn't able to retain her seat. Wincing as she pushed herself off the floor, she pushed her hair out of her face to be able to see. 

"Hull breach on deck twelve!" snapped Harry, his eyes flying over the damage reports pouring in. "We lost half a dozen EPS relays on decks eleven through fourteen, main power won't be able to hold out much longer." 

Completing the turn, Voyager was now making a dash for the refuge of the nebula, facing the sphere head-on that stood between them and their destination. The bow of the vessel was now taking the brunt of the attack and the bridge crew could feel the bulkheads straining under them with every hit. 

"Hold her steady, Tom. Tuvok, give him some cover." 

The Vulcan let loose an array of photon torpedoes and a rapid series of phaser blasts. All exploded harmlessly against the metal behemoth that loomed closer on the viewscreen. 

The consoles around the bridge flickered, went out, then returned dimmer than before. "We've lost main power," announced Harry. "Auxiliary is at eighty-two percent." 

"How far, Mr. Paris?" 

"Five thousand kilometers to the edge of the --" Another torpedo slammed into Voyager. Tom's console overloaded with a loud crack, throwing him out of his seat. 

Captain Janeway, thrown to the floor again by the force of the impact, pulled herself up and limped over towards him. There was a large burn on his cheek and he was unconscious, but when she pressed her fingers to his neck she could feel his pulse, steady and strong. 

She took his place at the helm and checked their position as one of the bridge crew lifted Tom and carried him to the turbolift. 

"Hull breach on deck two," said Chakotay, reading off the console next to his seat. "Emergency forcefields are holding." 

"Phasers and photon torpedoes are offline," added Tuvok. 

The bridge lurched violently, slamming the captain forward into the helm with enough force to hear an audible crack as her skull impacted the unforgiving surface. She winced as she pushed herself off the console, parallel streaks of blood running down her forehead and the display in front of her. 

She wiped her forehead with the back of her sleeve and blinked as her vision came back into focus. "We're inside the nebula," she gasped, short of breath. She quickly scanned the nebula's composition. "Two point five particles per million of sirillium. That should be enough. Tuvok, if we rerouted all available power to weapons would you be able to give me a single shot from the rear phaser banks?" 

"We'd probably wipe out half the power grid," interrupted Harry. 

The captain ignored him. "Tuvok?" 

"I believe it would be sufficient." 

She entered a series of commands on the blood-smeared console. "I'm dropping to thrusters." 

"Captain," began Chakotay, "if you ignite that with our shields down --" 

"We'll still be better off than if we do nothing," 

"Not if you blow out the power grid. We'll be completely defenseless." 

"If it works, we won't have anyone to defend ourselves against." She checked her display. "They're closing to five thousand kilometers." 

"I'm bringing us back up to full impulse -- Tuvok, fire on my command." 

"Aye, Captain." 

"Harry?" 

"Standing by to reroute auxiliary power to weapons." 

She watched the approach of the Borg sphere on her display until they were deep within the nebula. Voyager would be close to the volatile gases... too close, but if she waited the sphere might survive the blast. 

"Now!" 

The lights on the bridge flickered as power was transferred to the phaser banks. The narrow red beam shot out from the rear of the ship, cutting through the nebula. Almost instantly, the gases ignited in a rolling cloud of flame that engulfed the sphere pursuing them. 

A split second later, the explosion reached Voyager. The damaged vessel was keeled over sideways as the massive shockwave ripped past it. The bridge crew was tossed to the ground and the ship shuddered audibly for the several seconds it took for the wave to pass. 

Captain Janeway slowly pushed herself off the floor, her head pounding. "The sphere?" 

"Destroyed," said Tuvok. 

She released a breath she didn't realize she had been holding, and wiped another trail of blood off her forehead. "Damage report." 

"The main power grid is almost completely destroyed," said Harry. "Emergency power is at 39. Life support is offline on decks four through eight, sections fifteen to twenty-three. They're being evacuated. The Doctor is setting up triage in the mess hall." 

"Systems?" 

"The navigational array and long-range sensors are down." 

"Weapons and shields are offline," added Tuvok. "Structural integrity is at 58." 

"Hull breaches on decks two, four, and ten through twelve," said Chakotay. "Casualty reports are still coming in." 

"Arrange... a full survey of the ship," she said as she pulled herself to her feet with effort. "I want a complete damage report." 

"Captain." 

"What?" she demanded, turning to Tuvok. 

"You require medical attention." 

It wasn't a suggestion, and she wasn't in a mood to engage in what would doubtless be an unpleasant debate with her security officer in the middle of the bridge. She also knew that he had a point; she could feel warm blood still oozing down the side of her face from the open wound. "Chakotay, take the helm. Inform me immediately if the Borg show any sign of returning." 

"Aye, Captain." 

..... 

Captain Janeway sat impatiently as the doctor scanned her. The converted mess hall was crowded with injured crewmen, but fortunately most of the injuries did not appear life-threatening. Remarkable, considering the beating the ship had just taken. 

"What about Lieutenant Paris?" she asked as the Doctor examined his tricorder. 

"He suffered several minor burns, but nothing serious." 

"When can he return to duty?" 

"Tomorrow, assuming he feels up to it." He reached for a hypospray. "I don't suppose I can hope to give you the same prognosis." 

She raised a defiant eyebrow. 

He sighed but didn't appear very surprised. "Aside from the laceration you have a mild concussion. Your fifth this month, I might add." 

"Doctor...." 

He applied a hypospray to the side of her neck. "You can return to duty when I'm finished. But remember, if you --" 

"-- experience any dizziness, nausea, or headaches, come see you. I know the drill." 

"Hmph," he huffed with a frown, but then his expression softened. "You really should be more careful, Captain." 

"I'll be sure and inform the Collective of your concern. Maybe they'll go easy on us next time." 

He ignored the retort and began preparing the dermal regenerator to heal the gash on her forehead. 

As he raised the device, the captain's head snapped up with an instinctive alertness. Almost immediately, the lights dimmed and the all-too-familiar sound of the red alert siren eclipsed the ambient noise in the mess hall. A fraction of a second later, an impact rocked the ship, nearly throwing her off the cot. 

Her vision spinning as she righted herself, her fingers had barely brushed the surface of her commbadge when Chakotay's clipped tones came through. 

_Bridge to Janeway -- a cube has just dropped out of transwarp._

She pushed herself to her feet and shoved past the Doctor, heading for the door. "I'm on my way." 

The Doctor chased after her. "Captain, I'd like to run more scans in case --" 

Another torpedo rocked Voyager and Captain Janeway had to grab hold of the hologram's arm to stay on her feet. Her gaze was cold and determined as her eyes met his; the torpedo blasts were all the answer she needed to his request. 

However, he refused to relinquish his grip on her arm. "You could have serious complications that I'll only be able to detect with a more detailed scan." 

She frowned as if his algorithms were malfunctioning. "Treat the others first. I'm not going to sit here being scanned while the Borg try to pulverize my ship." 

He still would not release her. "I could make it an order," he warned. 

She roughly jerked her arm away. "Not now." She spun on her heel, her hair giving him a defiant flip as her quick strides carried her through the mess hall doors. Her brisk pace belied the warning throbbing in her head. 

Before she made it very far down the corridor, a pair of Borg torpedoes found their mark in quick succession and threw her against the bulkhead with a violent thud. She winced as she regained her feet, but then her frown deepened and she pressed her fingers to her forehead as the dull ache became a sharp, insistent pain. 

After a few seconds, it passed and she continued down the corridor. 

..... 

Chakotay braced himself against the helm as a series of Borg torpedoes slammed into the unprotected hull. "Report!" 

"Structural integrity is at sixty-three percent and falling," said Tuvok. 

"We're not going to be able to take much more of this!" yelled Harry over the noise. 

"Impulse engines are offline," said Chakotay. "I'm trying to boost power to the thrusters." 

Another torpedo exploded violently against the saucer section. The concussion brought part of the roof of the bridge down around them. Voyager seemed to be coming apart at the seams under the barrage. 

A fire was raging at the science station, the flames slowly licking their way across the floor and filling the air with acrid smoke. 

"Hull breach on deck three!" shouted Harry. 

The doors behind the tactical station opened and Captain Janeway stumbled onto the bridge amidst another series of explosions. 

She grasped the edge of Tuvok's console for support. "Weapons?" 

"Negative, Captain." 

Fighting off a stabbing wave of nausea, she made her way to her seat, tossed roughly into it by another torpedo impact. "Can we outrun them?" 

"Not on thrusters," said Chakotay. 

A large beam from the roof crashed down, landing in the middle of the bridge. 

"Structural integrity on decks one through six is at 38 and falling," said Tuvok. 

Another torpedo slammed into the saucer section. Several panels exploded in a shower of sparks at the rear of the bridge. 

"Twenty-five percent," said Tuvok. "Captain, I recommend that we evacuate the bridge." 

The captain turned her attention to the panel on her armrest. "Reroute all available power to structural integrity." 

"Emergency power is at thirty-one percent," said Harry. "We'll never get enough to reinforce the hull." 

She ignored him, working diligently at her panel and Harry and Chakotay exchanged an uneasy glance. 

"Captain, emergency forcefields are offline," said Chakotay. "If structural integrity fails --" 

"I only need another minute to --" 

"We may not have that long!" 

The dizziness was coming in waves now, but she pushed it aside and tried to concentrate. Looking for something, anything, a scrap of power that she could use to protect her bridge from destruction. 

"Structural integrity is at seventeen percent." 

Chakotay jumped up from the helm. "Everybody out! That's an order!" 

The captain looked up at him, her eyes simultaneously furious and desperate, then looked around at the ruins of the command centre. She saw defeat staring back at her. "Computer... transfer all command functions to... Engineering." It was hard to keep her concentration now. "Authorization... Janeway Pi Zero Zero One." 

Chakotay reached down and gripped her arm, but his touch was gentle. "Let's go, Kathryn." 

She began to stand up, but her legs gave out and all she could see were swimming flames engulfing her bridge before everything went black. 

...... 

_First Officer's Log, Stardate 58551.7. We successfully evaded the Borg deep inside the nebula, but Voyager is crippled and it doesn't appear that we'll be leaving our new home anytime soon. The damage to the ship is severe; the hull breach on the bridge has forced us to set up a command post in Engineering for the moment. The captain is still recovering from her injuries and I've temporarily assumed command._

The first thing Captain Janeway became aware of was the smell. It was hard to define the odor... smoke, perhaps, or blood. Or both. 

The second thing she became aware of was the throbbing pain in her head. Her eyelids were heavy, but she slowly forced them open. It took several seconds for her to process everything. She was in Sickbay... no, a cargo bay by the looks of it. She had been on the bridge.... 

The Borg. 

She sat up with a jerk. The room swam around her and she was hit with a sharp wave of nausea, and she quickly lay back down. 

The Borg. They had been under attack. The bridge on the verge of collapse.... 

"Captain. I didn't realize you were awake. How do you feel?" 

She turned her head slowly in the direction of the EMH's voice, which seemed much louder than usual, and grimaced. "Terrible," she rasped, her mouth dry. 

"I can imagine," said the Doctor, taking a seat on the cot next to her. He helped her sit up, slower this time, and began scanning her with his tricorder. 

"What happened?" she asked, gently massaging one temple as she looked around. She was indeed in one of the cargo bays, which was filled wall to wall with cots occupied by injured crew. 

"Your head trauma resulted in vascular hemorrhaging that wasn't detected by my initial scan. I was able to stop the bleeding and relieve the intracranial pressure before it caused any lasting brain damage, but if you hadn't received treatment when you did --" 

"I get the picture. I meant what happened with the Borg." 

He frowned. "Oh. We're inside the nebula, from what I've been told. I assume they lost track of us." 

"Casualties?" 

"Three, so far." He glanced at her over his tricorder. "Nearly four. Perhaps next time you won't take my medical opinion so lightly." 

"What I don't take lightly is my ship being in danger." 

"I think I speak for most of the crew when I say we'd be in a lot more trouble without our captain than anything the Borg can throw at us." 

"I appreciate the sentiment, Doctor, but considering the damage the Borg have done to us recently I doubt that very much." 

He finished scanning her. "I'd still like to see you exhibit a little more concern for your well-being." 

She patted his knee appreciatively, swinging her feet to the floor. "I'll do my best." 

He frowned as she started to stand up. "Where do you think you're going?" 

"To the bridge." 

He stood up as well. "Captain --" 

"You said I'm fine." 

"Yes, but --" 

"Then I'll be on the bridge." She turned and began to walk away. 

"I'm afraid you'll find it rather uncomfortable." She stopped, and inclined her head in his direction without turning to face him. "Unless you've suddenly developed the ability to survive in a vacuum." 

Her head snapped around. "What?" 

"There was a major hull breach. And as far as I know, they haven't been able to restore emergency forcefields yet." 

"Was anyone injured?" 

"Not to my knowledge." After a pause, he added, "Commander Chakotay has set up an emergency command post in Engineering." 

She remained inanimate for several more seconds, her eyes the only part of her moving as they darted back and forth. Gathering herself, she straightened her shoulders and met the EMH's eyes again. "Then I guess I'll be in Engineering." 

"Captain..." He paused, their eyes locked in mutual determination. He relented with a sigh. "All right. But if I hear from anyone that you're pushing yourself too far --" 

"You have the crew spying on me now?" He couldn't tell whether she was amused, or insulted. Or both. 

"I do what I have to do." 

She considered him thoughtfully for several moments before she nodded. "So do I, Doctor." 

He watched her as she turned and left Sickbay, a concerned frown creasing the holographic skin on his forehead. 

..... 

"The first thing we need to do is get main and auxiliary power back online," said B'Elanna, crossing her arms. 

Harry frowned. "That'll be tricky -- life support is only working on about half the ship." 

"We can reroute emergency power from nonessential areas through here, here, and here," she said, leaning over the main console in Engineering and pointing on a schematic of the ship. "That should give us access to everywhere we'll need to make repairs." 

Chakotay nodded his agreement. "I'll have Tuvok start the necessary evacuations. What about emergency forcefields?" 

"It'll be tough to get them back online without at least auxiliary power," B'Elanna explained. "We're already stretching emergency power to its limits." 

"All right. We'll have to start repairing hull breaches before we can go to warp." 

"We should be more concerned with having our weapons back online," said Harry. "What if the Borg decide to come looking for us?" 

"I'm more concerned about the possibility of ship-wide hull breaches with emergency forcefields offline." 

"Chakotay." 

Chakotay glanced up at B'Elanna, then followed her gaze towards the entrance to Main Engineering. He kept his expression neutral as he saw Captain Janeway making her way towards them. Her face was ghastly pale and the circles under her eyes were a translucent purple, but her gait was steady as she approached. 

He nodded to Harry and B'Elanna, who silently moved away as she drew up beside Chakotay, staring him down despite her height disadvantage. 

"I see you've got everything under control," she said in an undertone. 

"We're in rough shape, but B'Elanna's already got her team working to patch us up." 

"The Borg?" 

"Their sensors can't seem to detect us. They're probably waiting for us outside the nebula." 

She nodded, then looked down at the ship schematic. "How bad is it?" 

"Main and auxiliary power are down. There are hull breaches on decks one, two, three, seven, and ten through twelve. Life support is offline on five decks and parts of three more. We have no weapons, no shields, and no warp." 

She nodded. "Casualties?" 

"Reports are still coming in. Three dead. Four missing and presumed lost in the hull breaches, but without internal sensors there's no way to know." 

She closed her eyes and rubbed the side of her head absentmindedly. "What about the bridge?" 

"B'Elanna thinks it's salvageable." 

"Was it a direct hit?" 

"A torpedo hit on deck two was the final catalyst. The hull couldn't hold." 

She nodded. She continued looking over the damage reports coming in from all sections of the ship. It wasn't the worst beating Voyager had ever taken, but it was certainly close. It could take weeks to get the ship working at full capacity again, but they didn't have that kind of time. 

"Are you sure you're all right?" 

"I'm fine," she replied tersely. 

"I'm surprised the Doctor let you out of his sight so quickly." 

She reached for another PADD. "I didn't really give him much choice in the matter." 

Chakotay shook his head and muttered something incomprehensible under his breath. 

"I'm sorry?" 

He looked up at her. After a few moments consideration, he spoke. "I said I would have thought you'd learned your lesson." 

She placed her hands on her hips, glaring at him. "And what lesson would that be, exactly?" 

"The Doctor says he told you to stay in Sickbay for more scans but you refused." 

"We were under attack." 

"That's no excuse to put your life at risk." 

"It's the best excuse!" she snapped. 

"And what about the rest of us? Structural integrity was failing, the emergency forcefields were down, we were under attack, but you refused to evacuate the bridge until it was nearly too late. The hull breached less than five seconds after we made it to safety." 

"I thought I could reroute enough power to reinforce the hull. I was doing what I thought was best." 

"You weren't fit to be anywhere near that bridge, Kathryn, and you know it." 

A heavy silence fell, hanging thick between them as they stared each other down. It stretched out interminably until he finally spoke again. "It was stubborn, it was reckless, and it nearly got us killed." 

"I did what I thought was best for the ship," she repeated, but her voice lacked its usual confidence and strength. 

"If I hadn't pulled you out of there, we wouldn't both be standing here alive." 

She stared at him. "Then I guess I owe you one." 

"That wasn't what I m--" 

"Captain?" 

They both turned to Harry, standing in the archway that divided their console from the rest of Engineering. 

The expressions of his two commanding officers wasn't lost on him. "If I'm interrupting something, I can --" 

She looked back at Chakotay. "No. We're finished." 

Chakotay sighed as she followed Harry out of sight, but after a few moments returned to his examination of the damage reports. 

..... 

_Captain's Log, Stardate 58619.5. We are still holding position in the nebula and fortunately it appears the Borg have not detected us. Ensign Harper and Crewman Gerron, reported missing during the battle, were both found on deck twelve badly wounded but alive. The Doctor reports that they are now in stable condition. However, we have yet to locate Crewman Jor and Ensign Bristow. Repairs are proceeding slowly. Lieutenant Torres believes she may be able to restore our warp drive within a few weeks. Quarters are tight and it's becoming more difficult to maintain even a semblance of crew morale._

Debris crunched under Captain Janeway's feet as she walked down a corridor on deck seven, ducking as she went to avoid the loose conduits and wiring dangling from the ceiling. She swung her tricorder methodically from left to right and back as she walked, her wrist flashlight marking out the arcs as she searched for the breaks in the power grid that were hampering the Engineering team's efforts to restore main power. 

The rubble scattering the hallway alerted her to someone's approach. She directed her flashlight in the direction of the noise and saw Harry Kim round the corner. He was similarly equipped with a tricorder and flashlight, and stopped in surprise when he saw the captain. 

"I thought I'd start scanning the power grid for defects," he explained. 

She smiled, a small smile that lacked any depth. "At 0400? I guess I'm not the only one who had trouble sleeping." 

He smiled as well, his expression equally hollow. "Every time I start to drift off, I think I hear a red alert." 

"I don't blame you." 

They started moving down the corridor again, Harry following a few steps behind the captain. They passed several minutes in silence, broken only by the noise of the wreckage under their feet as they moved. 

"Harry," she said finally, "can I ask you something?" 

"Of course." 

"Do you think this was a mistake?" 

He frowned. "Captain?" 

"Going through Borg space. Do you think it was a mistake?" 

He slowed to a halt. "I... I don't think it's my place to answer that." 

She stopped as well, turning to face him in the dim lighting. "Maybe not, but I'm asking you anyways." 

He thought carefully. "Sometimes... sometimes I find myself wondering if we wouldn't have been better off settling on a nice M-class planet before we got into this mess." 

Her surprise was evident. "You're the last person I ever expected to hear that from," she said quietly. She scrutinized him. "What ever happened to the ensign who was so eager to get home he tried to convince me to fly into a Borg-infested nebula?" 

"We've got a home here, too. And the more we struggle to get back to our old one, the more it seems like we're losing this one." 

She stared at him in silence. So much of it was echoed in the doubts and guilt that plagued her in the dark that she had nothing to say. 

But Harry wasn't finished. "But then, I think of how we could have given up after a month in the Delta Quadrant. But we didn't -- and we've made it forty-five thousand light-years closer to home because we took some risks along the way. If we keep on not giving up... just think how far we'll go." 

She watched him thoughtfully but remained silent. 

"We won't always be able to play it safe," he said. "And we'll have more losses, but we'll make it in the end." 

"Not all of us will." 

"Captain... do you think that if Seven, or Joe Carey, or any of the others were here, they would tell you to go back and do things differently? To give up and settle on a planet somewhere?" 

"Don't you?" 

"No, I don't. We all knew the risks when we put on the uniform. And I doubt that any member of the crew who's given their life would rather have seen us give up." 

She poked a piece of scorched bulkhead with her toe before kicking it out of the way. 

"You promised eleven years ago to get this crew home. I trust you to fulfill that promise... and so does everyone on this ship." He smiled. "Even if it's not always obvious." 

She was thoughtful as she looked down the corridor, then turned back to him. "You never answered my question." Her voice was softer than before, a sign of how affected she was by his support. "Would you have brought us through Borg space if you were in my position?" 

"Frankly, Captain, I don't have the slightest idea of what it would be like to be in your position." 

She smiled. "You will someday, Harry." 

They fell into silence again, taking in the wreckage around them. 

"Yes," said Harry after a while. 

Lost in her own thoughts, she looked over at him, confused. 

"I would have done the same thing," he clarified. He nodded down the corridor. "Now. What about this power grid?" 

She motioned with her arm. "Lead the way, Ensign." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

...... 

_Captain's Log, Stardate 58732.7. Voyager has now been stranded in this nebula for forty-two days, with no end in sight. Lieutenant Torres and her engineers are making slow progress on the warp core, while other repairs have all but crept to a standstill._

B'Elanna punched the console in front of her. "Dammit!" She winced as she unclenched her fist, the skin on her knuckles raw. She sighed. "This isn't going to work." 

Captain Janeway continued working at her console. "Increase the pressure in the reaction chamber to 2,800 kilopascals, then bring the magnetic constrictors online." 

"The pressure isn't the problem." 

"It might be enough to increase the reaction rate past the threshold." 

"What if there are microfractures in the core?" 

"We'll have to increase the power to the containment field." 

"It's not going to work!" 

"I'm not ready to give up that easily," she snapped back. 

"Captain, you know I'm the last person to give up without a fight. But this _isn't going to work!_" She paused and glanced around Engineering. Several heads were turned in the direction of their heated conversation, but immediately looked away when they saw B'Elanna watching them. "We need more dilithium," she said, lowering her voice. 

"It's too risky." 

"There's no other way!" 

The captain stood up, tossing the hyperspanner in her hand to the floor. "Find one," she snapped. 

She watched the captain leave, biting her lower lip to contain herself. Once the doors to Main Engineering shut behind the captain, B'Elanna stalked over to an isolated corner of Engineering. She paced back and forth, then whirled and slammed her open hand against the bulkhead. She stood there, leaning against the wall with her head down, taking deep breaths in an attempt to vent the frustration that was building inside her. 

"Rough day?" 

She glanced over her shoulder with a volatile expression and saw Tom approaching her. "You could say that." 

"Want to talk about it?" 

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" she snapped in response. 

"Last time I checked, the helm was still exposed to the vacuum of space. And in case you haven't noticed, we don't exactly need a pilot at the moment." 

"Oh believe me, I've noticed! I am _painfully_ aware that we are going absolutely _nowhere_!" 

He looked at her mutely for a few seconds. "Are you finished, or should I go get a pair of bat'leths?" 

"Very funny." 

"I'm serious. Maybe if you took a few swings at me you'd stop snapping at everyone in sight." 

"I'm not in the mood, Tom." 

"Obviously." 

"Look, just... just go away, all right?" She shoved past him. "I've got work to do." 

"No." 

She stopped and turned around, her hands on her hips. "What?" 

He took a few steps towards her so that they were face to face. The height advantage was his, but B'Elanna was formidable in her anger. "I'm not going anywhere until you calm down, because the last thing your staff needs right now is you taking their heads off at every turn." 

They stared each other down, waiting for the other to give in. Uncharacteristically, B'Elanna blinked first. "I'm sorry," she offered, moving towards him again. "You're right, I shouldn't take this out on my crew." 

He led her back towards the corner to have some degree of privacy. "Still not making any progress?" 

She sighed. "If I've told the captain once, I've told her a thousand times: we need more dilithium. But she just won't listen." 

"She doesn't want to risk sending the Delta Flyer out on its own," he guessed. 

"And I would agree with her, but without more dilithium I can't be sure that we won't have a core breach on our hands the first time we hit a bump. And that's if we can even get the core up and running in the first place, which is far from a sure thing." 

"But you're making progress, right?" 

"Barely. It certainly doesn't help to have the captain breathing down our necks all the time. I know she means well, and I'm sure she's frustrated not having access to the bridge, but it's driving me insane and it's making my crew nervous having her around all the time." 

"Have you said anything?" 

"Like what? 'With all due respect, Captain, get the hell out of my engine room?' Because I'm sure that would go over well." 

"So you might end up shoved out an airlock. At least you'd get some peace and quiet." 

She struggled for a moment, but was unable to restrain a grin. "Remind me why you're keeping me from my work?" 

"To see that," he said, poking a finger towards her smile and playfully leaning forward for a kiss. 

She shoved him in the shoulder, still smiling. "Get out of here, Flyboy. If you can't find something to do I can put you to work repairing EPS conduits." 

He grinned but obliged, leading her back towards the warp core. "You know, if you're serious, I might just have a way to get Captain Janeway out of your hair..." 

...... 

Lying on her back with her torso wedged underneath a console, Captain Janeway stretched the straining muscles in her shoulders before moving the miniature laser torch back into position. A thin red beam shot from the end of the tool and a small stream of smoke rose as the two pieces of broken wire began fusing into one. After a few minutes, she was forced to lower the tool in order to wipe the droplets of sweat off her forehead with the back of her sleeve. 

She raised the torch again, aiming it at another break in the wiring. Pressure from her thumb and forefinger activated the laser, but the overworked muscles in her shoulder protested, sending a spasm up her arm. The break in concentration was brief, but enough for the tool to slip far enough that her hand holding the wires in position was caught in the path of the laser. Her hands opened reflexively and the torch dropped behind her. 

"Damn," she muttered, nursing a spot on her hand that was already raw. 

Looking around the cramped space, she began to feel around for the torch when she saw it appear out of the corner of her eye, clasped in a familiar hand. 

"Looking for this?" she heard Tom Paris's voice accompany the disembodied hand. 

"Whoever designed these conduits will be getting a very strong-worded letter from me someday," was all she muttered in response as she accepted the torch and returned to work. 

"Do you have a minute?" 

"I'm busy." 

"No problem." He lowered himself to the ground and slid underneath the console beside her. "Pass me the coil spanner." 

"I assume you're here because of B'Elanna." 

"Maybe I just thought you could use some help repairing the auxiliary power grid." 

The coil spanner she passed him was accompanied by a glare that made it clear she didn't buy a word of it. "I've already made my position clear." 

"I know. I'm just not sure B'Elanna has." 

"She made her point." 

"Then you know that without more dilithium, getting the warp drive back online and keeping it that way is going to be next to impossible." 

"But not entirely impossible." 

"No." 

"Then we keep trying it my way." She lowered the torch and tilted her upper body so she was partially facing him. "I'm aware we may reach a point where we have no option but to send the Delta Flyer to find a source of dilithium. But until we reach that stage, I'm not willing to consider it. We have no idea how many Borg cubes are inside or outside the nebula, never mind between us and wherever the nearest planet with a source of dilithium might be. The Delta Flyer would be virtually defenseless against one cube, and there could be dozens waiting to ambush it. Even its speed and maneuverability would not be a match for the sheer force of a Borg vessel." 

He scrutinized the controls of his coil spanner, avoiding her gaze. 

"It's too dangerous," she finished. "And I'm not willing to take the risk until I'm certain we have no other options." She flipped again onto her back. "Pass me the phase inverter." 

He felt around the toolbox behind his head, found what he was looking for, and handed it to her. "There's something we could do in the meantime." 

"Oh?" 

"You said the Delta Flyer would be virtually defenseless against the Borg." 

"It's hardly a match for a fully armed cube." 

"No. But we could try to even the odds a little." 

She stopped working and turned her head towards him, intrigued. "What have you got in mind?" 

"An idea Harry came up with a while ago but hasn't had time to develop." He reached down near his waist and picked up a PADD that he passed to her. 

Holding it up in front of her, she examined the schematics with a thoughtful frown. It was several minutes before she spoke. 

"This is ingenious," she said finally. 

"I know." 

"They... shift phases to penetrate shielding?" 

"Yeah. Transphasic torpedoes, Harry called them." 

"But it would have to be applied to everything, and the phase inverter would have to be precisely calibrated." She turned to look at him and gestured with the PADD. "Is this feasible?" 

"I don't know. But it's definitely worth a shot." 

Her eyes returned to the PADD, lighting up with excitement as the problem challenged her scientific mind. "I agree," she said after a moment. "Are you volunteering?" 

"It's not like I can do much else around here right now." 

"You'll need help." 

"Tuvok and Harry." 

She shook her head. "I need Harry's expertise overseeing repairs." 

"Then I'll need someone else who has a strong grasp of quantum theory and torpedo mechanics." 

"Who might that be?" she asked, although her eyes had already narrowed suspiciously. 

His only answer was a raised eyebrow. 

She stared at him, then returned her attention to the power conduit above her. "Is this B'Elanna's way of getting me out from underfoot to let her do her job?" 

"Not at all." 

"Didn't Starfleet ever teach you not to lie to your commanding officer?" 

"No, ma'am, but my survival instincts have taught me how to live with a half-Klingon with a short temper." 

"Understood." 

"Thank you, Captain." 

He began sliding out from under the console, but her voice called after him. 

"By the way, Mr. Paris, I should mention that if you're ever looking for another career in Starfleet you'd be well suited for the diplomatic corps." 

"I try." 

"0700 tomorrow morning, Lieutenant." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

...... 

_Captain's Log, Stardate 58794.3. Our power reserves as well as our food supplies are dwindling; if Voyager is not warp capable within the next ten days I may have no choice but to consider sending the Delta Flyer to obtain dilithium and supplies if necessity outweighs the risk._

The weeks of stress and sleeplessness were written in the faces of the senior staff as they gathered around a console in engineering. Only Tuvok seemed oblivious to the effects, but even his expression was graver than usual. 

"We've been able to make some progress on developing the transphasic torpedoes," began Janeway. "Tom?" 

"So far, we've only got a theoretical model," explained Tom. "But without a holodeck to run simulations, we have no way to know whether it's feasible." 

"Why not just build a prototype?" asked B'Elanna. 

"Constructing a prototype would waste valuable resources," said Tuvok. "And testing it would undoubtedly attract unwanted attention from the Borg." 

"You may not have much choice," said Harry. 

Captain Janeway nodded. "Harry's right; without the holodecks, our only option once we've exhausted our computer models will be to build a prototype... but we'll have to wait to test it. I don't want to give the Borg anything they can use to pinpoint our position." 

"Trial by fire," commented Tom. 

"It may come to that," she agreed before turning to Chakotay. "Now... what's our food situation?" 

"Not good. Even our stocks of emergency rations are getting dangerously low." 

"Good riddance," muttered Harry. "Those things taste like chalk." 

"We either need to resupply or get the replicators back online," continued Chakotay, ignoring the quip. 

The captain turned to B'Elanna. "What are the chances we could get main power or even auxiliary power back in the next few days?" 

"About the same as the chances we'll get the warp core up and running in the next few days: slim at best." 

"Do what you can. I'll only send the Delta Flyer out alone as a last resort: they would make an easy target for the Borg." 

"No more than we've been for the past year," observed Tom sardonically. "You know, one of these days we really should make sure nobody's gone and painted a giant bulls eye on our hull." 

Captain Janeway's eyes snapped towards him and he swallowed hard, but she made no comment. "Anything else?" she asked, turning back to the others. When they shook their heads, she nodded. "Dismissed." 

Picking up a PADD, she walked over to a nearby console, wishing she had her habitual cup of coffee. She could almost taste the bitter liquid running down the back of her throat... but coffee was, for once, very near the bottom of her list of priorities. 

She sensed a presence behind her and turned to see that Tom had remained behind. "Something else, Lieutenant?" 

"What I said... it was out of line. I apologize." 

She scrutinized him for several seconds before she shook her head. "No," she said softly, "it wasn't out of line. It was the truth." 

"I still shouldn't have said it. I know you're doing your best, Captain. We all know that." 

Leaning against the console, she sighed and looked around at the hubbub of Engineering, thrown into shadows by the dim emergency lights. She missed watching the stars fly by out her ready room window. 

Tom moved towards her. "You look tired, Captain," he said gently. 

She flashed a wry smile and massaged the side of her forehead. "I've been tired for eleven years." 

"More so than usual, then," he said with a slight smile. He scrutinized her. "Have you been sleeping?" 

She turned and looked at him with one eyebrow raised high. 

He chuckled and held up his hands. "Okay, stupid question. Sorry." 

She smiled. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine, Tom." 

He smiled back. "Can't blame a guy for trying. Although usually I think that's Chakotay's job." 

The change in her demeanor was immediate. He could almost see her close herself off. "Yes, well...." She cleared her throat and studied the PADD she was carrying. "Was there anything else?" 

"No, ma'am." 

She nodded without taking her eyes off the PADD. "Dismissed," she said, so quietly he almost didn't hear her. 

He turned and left her alone. 

...... 

A single band of blue light pulsed slowly upwards along the warp core. After a few seconds, it was followed by another. And then another. And another. 

More lights came on around the workings of the core, and soon the audible hum of the warp reactor vibrated through Engineering, breaking the silence that had endured for weeks. 

B'Elanna, on her back half underneath a console, leaned back on her elbows to watch the core. "Nicoletti?" she said, unwilling to trust her instincts prematurely. 

The young engineer working at one of the consoles in front of the core leaned over so she could see B'Elanna and nodded with a wide smile. "You did it, Lieutenant." 

B'Elanna breathed a heavy sigh of relief and fell back onto the floor, feeling the tension release that had been contained ever since they had entered the nebula. 

When she opened her eyes, she saw Harry Kim standing above her, extending his hand. She took it and pulled herself to her feet. 

"I didn't think you had it in you," he admitted with a grin. 

She brushed the dust off the shoulders of her uniform. "Neither did I." 

The doors to engineering slid open and Captain Janeway entered at a brisk pace. She slowed when she came into view of the core, approaching it slowly as if afraid to disrupt a mirage. She leaned forward on the railing surrounding the tower of pulsing blue light, a hint of a smile lighting up her features for the first time in months. 

"Well done, B'Elanna." 

"Don't congratulate me yet, Captain. I still think this is just a quick fix: the core is still very unstable. I'm not sure how long we'll be able to keep it up and running without stopping for more extensive repairs and fresh dilithium." 

"It'll have to do. The longer we stay here, the greater the chance the Borg will pinpoint our position. Harry, how close are you to repairing the hull breaches?" 

"Another couple of days should do it." 

"And if we got main power back online?" 

"Eight hours, maybe." 

"With the warp drive back online, we should have fewer problems restoring main power," offered B'Elanna. 

"Get on it. Use any personnel you need." 

"Aye, Captain." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

As they moved off in separate directions, Captain Janeway continued staring at the pulsing lights of the core. Her eyes followed it upwards to where the blue cylinder met the ceiling. 

"Don't let me down, Voyager," she said quietly under her breath. 

...... 

A haze of dust and smoke hung in the still air of Chakotay's quarters. He stood motionless in the doorway for several seconds before he roused himself and entered. The stars were streaking by out the window; a comforting sight after weeks spent motionless inside a nebula. 

A torpedo had struck three sections aft of Chakotay's quarters during the battle that stranded them in the nebula, and it showed. His belongings were tossed about the room as if caught in a tornado. He realized that he was fortunate that the decompression caused by the massive hull breaches on his deck hadn't reached his quarters, or he wouldn't have any belongings left to be cleaning up. 

Something crunched under his foot. He stepped back and bent down, brushing the debris off the square object he had tread on. 

His dirty fingers smeared away some of the grime to reveal Seven of Nine's face smiling back at him. 

Taking a seat among his littered possessions, he used the sleeve of his uniform to clear away the rest of the holoimage. 

A picture of their wedding day. 

They were both wearing their dress uniforms: his scarlet, hers a vibrant teal. Her hair was half pulled back, the rest cascading down the back of her neck, the way she had liked to wear it as she had grown away from her Borg roots. She was holding her bouquet of orchids that Tuvok had grown for her in the airponics bay, and one of the flowers was tucked delicately in a twist of her hair just above one ear. 

He had his arm around her waist. And they were both smiling. 

His finger brushed Seven's outline under the dusty frame with tender familiarity. Her loss had subsided to a dull ache in his chest, like an old wound that you get used to but still makes you wince every once in a while when you move the wrong way. 

He hadn't been in love with Seven, but he had been happy -- something rare in life, in his experience -- and in less time than he might have expected he had found himself growing to love her. No one who knew them would have suspected them of suiting each other, but somehow they fit. He had always known that she would never, _could_ never, open up to him completely, just as she had accepted that there were some parts of him that could never belong to her. He knew it would have seemed strange to anyone else, but this mutual reserve had actually brought them closer. 

There had always been a part of him that held back from Seven. A part of him stuck in the past, regretting the path not taken. 

Kathryn. 

He knew it would have been impossible, he knew she would never have allowed it even if she admitted she returned his feelings, and he knew that although they could have been wonderful together there was an equally good chance it would have ended in disaster. He had repeated this mantra to himself countless times. 

As if that was enough to silence the part of him that wanted the impossible. 

But despite these demons, or perhaps because of them, they had grown close beyond what either of them had expected. And just as they had both found the peace and content that had eluded both of them for most of their lives, it had been unceremoniously ripped away. In a flash, at the whim of the Borg, she was gone, leaving in her place a gaping, sucking blackness that threatened to envelop him. 

Everything that was good in his life seemed to vanish at once, evaporating in the blink of an eye. He never spoke to B'Elanna, or Tom, or Harry anymore. Or Kathryn, the most difficult void of all created by her absence. Even his spirit guide had abandoned him. It was as if the universe was punishing him for the brief period of happiness he had experienced. 

Or maybe it helped to think that. He knew he had been avoiding B'Elanna and the others. And Kathryn... He winced at the recollection. He knew he had pushed Kathryn away, far more roughly than she deserved. But being with her not only brought forth all the emotion of Seven's death again, knowing that Kathryn had been responsible, but dragged into the light his guilt about his relationship with Seven and how he had held back from her. Being with Kathryn meant having to blame his best friend as well as himself and it was just too painful when his wounds from Seven's loss had still been so fresh. And it was much harder to heal that breach than it had been to create it. 

He had never been one to shy away from doing what he knew was right, and he didn't need his spirit guide to tell him what needed to be done. 

The breach may be too wide to cross, but at least he could throw an olive branch across it and hope it reached the other side. 

..... 

The ready room was dark, the air hushed and heavy with dust still unsettled from the battle that had ravaged the ship. 

He sensed her presence before he saw her silhouette against the windows, sitting on the steps that divided the room. The space outside was altered by the blackness of the room, the stars set against a dark purple background rather than the jet black it appeared in normal lighting. 

"Kathryn." 

She looked up. Her arms were braced against her knees and her chin had been resting in her hands until he said her name. She watched him as he approached her without waiting for invitation. 

"Sorry about the mess," she said softly as he sat down beside her. She didn't look at him; she was fixated on the destruction around her. "I've been meaning to tidy up...." Her voice faded. 

He reached over and rested his hand on her knee. She patted it thankfully, but said nothing. They sat together in silence, enjoying the physical contact they had both missed. 

"I owe you an apology, long overdue." 

She shifted and his hand dropped from her knee. "Don't..." 

"No, I do, Kathryn, and we both know it." 

Her eyes were locked on the floor in front of her toes, avoiding his gaze. "It was perfectly understandable, given the circumstances -- " 

"It was inexcusable, and I'm sorry for it." 

She looked up at him. "You have nothing to apologize for. It's... I may not have been the one who killed her, but it's my fault she died. You have every right to blame me." 

"Maybe so. But that's not going to bring her back." 

She rose, moving to stand next to the window. She stood there for a long time, deep in contemplation. "I've missed this, you know," she said finally. "Us. Talking." 

"So have I." 

She turned away from the window to face him, her expression pained. "There's a distance between us, Chakotay. A distance that never used to be there." Her eyes searched his face, looking for a sign of the best friend she hadn't seen in years. "Do you think we can ever cross it again?" 

Part of him wanted to say yes. Part of him wanted to reach out, take her hand, and reassure her that everything could go back to normal. But deep down, he knew that no matter how comforting it might be to hear the words, they would be a lie. 

"I don't know, Kathryn. I'm not sure we can. I'm not the same person I used to be... and neither are you." 

She nodded, raw emotion shining from her eyes. "It's been a rough few years," she acknowledged in an uneven voice. "And there's no end in sight. We've lost too many good people, and it's all we can do to keep the ship from falling apart." She took a moment to strengthen her tenuous hold on her composure. "It would be a lot easier if I knew I still had my First Officer at my back." 

"I can't promise that." 

She closed her eyes to keep them from betraying her, remembering another conversation a long time ago when he had told her that she was not alone. The strength she had drawn from his unwavering support was a distant memory, faded with time yet still vivid enough to be exquisitely painful. 

"We've disagreed too often and too dramatically for me to be promise to stay silent," he finished. 

She took a shallow, trembling breath, hoping it would escape his notice. "I don't expect you to," she said softly. "Your opinion is always welcome. I may not understand your point of view or agree with it, but that never means I don't want to hear it." 

He got to his feet, still looking up at her as she stood on the raised dais. "But you don't, Kathryn. When you have your mind set on something, you don't listen to any of us. And I can't in good conscience stand by you when you do that." His eyes traced her features. "I expect better from the captain I used to know." 

"I haven't changed as much as you think I have, Chakotay." 

"Maybe not. Or maybe you need to take a good look at yourself in the mirror." He paused. "A day will come when I leave here not recognizing the captain who asked me to be her first officer so many years ago. I live in fear of that day, Kathryn. And so should you." 

He held her gaze for a few moments, his eyes penetrating down to her soul, then turned and left her alone without a backward glance. 

Reaching behind her, she grasped the railing and lowered herself unsteadily to the stair she had been sitting on when he entered. Tears welled in her eyes against her will, blurring her vision as she looked around at the wreckage of her ready room. 

How had it all come to this? 


	5. Part Five: 2383

DISCLAIMER: Paramount's, not mine. If only. 

**Lead Me Through the Fire **

Part Five 

_Captain's Log, Stardate 58194.3 The situation in Engineering has become critical -- we are limited to warp 2 and are under constant threat of the engines shutting down completely. Despite my misgivings, I now have no choice but to send the Delta Flyer on an away mission to search for a suitable source of dilithium or Voyager will soon be incapable of warp. Traveling at maximum warp, the Flyer will be able to cover far more ground than Voyager in her current state. The Flyer will be equipped with the two prototypes of our transphasic torpedoes. They have yet to be tested, but I have confidence in Tuvok's simulations and will use them if it becomes necessary._

Captain Janeway let her gaze travel around the console in Engineering where the senior staff had gathered, taking in their reactions to her announcement but determining very little from the steadfast expressions of her officers. 

"Mr. Paris," she said, snapping out of her train of thought, "ready the Delta Flyer. We'll leave at 2200." 

"Aye, Captain." 

She turned to B'Elanna. "Have two of your people gather the necessary equipment and meet us in the shuttle bay." 

"Captain, I --" 

"No. There are still too many repairs to be made and I'm not willing to spare your expertise for a routine mining operation." 

It was Tuvok's turn. "A foray into Borg territory could hardly be called 'routine,' Captain. You should be accompanied by security personnel." 

"I'll be at tactical. I'm not taking a crew larger than four and the mission will go faster with two engineers than with one." She surveyed the rest of the staff. "Anything else?" She nodded. "Good. Let's go to work." 

The staff began to disperse, until only B'Elanna and Chakotay remained. Though she wasn't looking at him, Chakotay had known B'Elanna long enough to know when she had something on her mind and was holding her tongue with effort. It was a rare but distinctive feeling that emanated from her, like a coiled snake about to strike but biding its time. "What?" he snapped, more harshly than he intended. 

She glanced up, considered him for a few seconds, then looked back down at her console. "Nothing. I just expected you to say something." 

"About what?" 

"Letting the captain go off on a dangerous mission in the middle of Borg-occupied territory without any tactical officers." 

His expression darkened and he concentrated on the panel in front of him. "She's capable of making her own decisions. I'm not her keeper." 

"No, you're her First Officer." She snorted. "Or at least, you used to be." 

He looked up at her. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Figure it out, Chakotay." 

"Look... if I've learned anything about Captain Janeway, it's that when she puts her mind to something there's no turning her away, so --" 

"If -- if you've learned _anything_ about Captain Janeway?" she sputtered. "Chakotay, you probably know more about her than half the people on this ship put together! And all you can say is, she's _stubborn_?" 

He pointedly avoided answering. 

"Look. I don't expect you to convince her to stay. Neither does she. But I'd bet the warp core that the fact someone tries to dissuade her means something. And it probably keeps her from crossing the line between risk and kamikaze." 

"She's crossed that line before." 

"And every time, someone's been there to pull her back. One of these days, she's going to cross it again, only this time it'll be permanent." 

A voice called from the other side of the warp core, interrupting them. "Lieutenant!" 

She glanced over her shoulder, then looked back at Chakotay. He was once again studying his PADD intently and ignoring her. With a sigh, she turned away. "Coming." 

After a few steps, she paused and turned back. "I've been in that place, Chakotay. It's a swirling, deep, dark black hole that sucks you into it. You're powerless to get out, and the harder you struggle the weaker it makes you. It's horrible, and it's torture... but the only thing you want more than for it to all end is for someone to come in after you." 

She waited for a reaction, but when he showed none she turned and walked away, the disappointment evident on her face. 

...... 

Kneeling next to his compact travel bag, Tom surveyed his quarters, mentally running through his list and trying to determine if he'd forgotten anything. 

"Canna come?" 

Tom affectionately mussed Miral's dark locks as she sat on the floor next to him, her arms wrapped around one of her stuffed animals. "Not this time." 

"Why?" 

"Because it's too dangerous, sweetie. This mission is for the grown-ups." 

"Bud I wanna have a 'venture, like in your stories." 

"When you get older, I promise." 

"I almost four!" 

"Older than that." 

"How older?" 

"A _lot_ older." 

Miral sniffed and tugged on the ear of her plush bear. Setting his bag aside, he shifted closer to her and gently clasped her chin, tilting it up so her dark eyes swimming with tears were fixed on him. "I need you to be brave for me while I'm gone. You look after your Mom, and do what she says. Okay, kiddo?" 

She nodded with another sniff. 

He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. "That's my girl." 

Rocking back on his heels, he returned to packing his bag but something white, black and fluffy was thrust into his field of vision. 

"Can Pandy go?" 

Miral was standing next to him, her arm extended and her small hand clutching the stuffed bear. He smiled despite himself and shook his head. "Thanks, but you keep him." 

"You woan get lowny?" 

After a pause, his smile deepened and he reached out and accepted the toy. "Sure you won't miss your Panda?" 

She attempted a brave shrug, though her eyes remained longingly on the bear. 

He gently settled the stuffed animal in the bag next to his spare uniform. "I'll take good care of him, I promise." 

"I'll hold you to that." 

He looked over his shoulder and saw B'Elanna standing in the doorway, her arms crossed. 

"Looks like you're all packed," she added with an edge to her voice. 

He climbed to his feet, moving over to the doorway to join her. 

"I should be coming with you," she said resentfully, tugging on his uniform jacket. 

"What about Miral?" 

B'Elanna frowned. "So you're allowed to leave, and I'm the one who's responsible for our daughter?" 

"That's not --" He broke off, sighed, and rested his hands on her shoulders. "You know Miral isn't a responsibility I take lightly. But I'm the best pilot we've got, and you're the best engineer we've got, and we're needed where we can do what we do best." 

She appeared slightly mollified. "I still wish I was going with you." 

A hint of a smile played on his lips. "You hate being cooped up in the Flyer." 

"I hate being left behind, too," she retorted. 

He leaned forward and kissed her, his lips lingering on hers as he reluctantly pulled away. "I'll see you when I get back." 

She patted his arm affectionately. "Be careful, Flyboy." 

..... 

Captain Janeway and Chakotay matched strides as they moved down the corridor towards the shuttle bay. The corridor was lit only by a scattered handful of flickering lights and the floor was littered with dirt and debris. 

"We'll have to avoid using the comm except in an emergency. I don't want to take the chance of the Borg intercepting our transmissions and pinpointing our positions." 

Chakotay nodded. "Understood." 

She ducked under a hanging conduit. "There's no telling how long it will take us to find a suitable source of dilithium." 

"We'll be watching for you." 

They arrived at the entrance to the shuttle bay. The doors slid open, revealing the Flyer parked in front of them. Tom and Lieutenant Nicoletti were loading equipment into the cargo hold. 

Harry emerged from the Flyer. "The prototype transphasic torpedoes are loaded," he announced as the captain and Chakotay approached. 

"Good," said the captain with a satisfied nod. 

Tom and Nicoletti set down the final crate in the cargo bay. "That's the last of the supplies," he said. "Everything else is already on board." 

"We're ready when you are, Captain," confirmed Lieutenant Nicoletti. 

She nodded. "Then let's go. The sooner we get this over with, the better." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

Harry turned to follow Nicoletti into the Flyer, but was called back by a stern voice. "Ensign?" 

He looked over his shoulder to meet an icy stare from Captain Janeway. "Yes, Captain?" 

"What do you think you're doing?" 

He met her gaze steadily. "Coming with you." 

"I thought I made myself clear at the briefing." 

He stood his ground. "You told B'Elanna to assign two Engineers to the away team." 

"Last time I checked, Mr. Kim," she said deliberately, "you were not an Engineer." 

"You gave B'Elanna permission to draft any officer to her team as she saw fit." 

Captain Janeway stared him down for what seemed an eternity before nodding curtly. "Get aboard, Ensign." 

"Yes, ma'am," he said, immediately scrambling into the Flyer. 

Captain Janeway watched him until he was out of sight, then turned to face Chakotay, adjusting the bag slung over her shoulder. "I know you don't agree with my leading this mission, but I'm not willing to send someone else. It's too risky." 

She watched him as if expecting a response, her eyes fixed on his. After several seconds that seemed to stretch out interminably, she tore her eyes away, looking down to shift her bag again. When she looked back at him, her expression was neutral. "Take care of my ship." 

"Of course." 

"If something happens, you're not to waste time searching for us. I don't want to put anyone else at risk." 

"Captain --" 

"That's an order, Commander." 

His expression wavered, but then he nodded in resignation. "Understood." 

...... 

_Captain's Log, Delta Flyer, Stardate 58234.7. After fifteen days of scanning, we have located an M-class planet with high concentrations of dilithium ore. We passed within sensor range of three Borg vessels, but fortunately have yet to be pursued._

"There's a high concentration of dilithium in one of the northeastern continents," reported Lieutenant Nicoletti. 

"Take us down, Mr. Paris," ordered the captain. 

"Sunrise in the area isn't for another forty-five minutes," added Nicoletti. 

"It should still be light enough to see our way around to scan for a suitable site," said Harry. 

The Flyer descended through the clouds, emerging into a black sky that swallowed the small vessel. Flying solely on sensors, Tom watched the readouts as the ground drew near. He leveled off their descent, the small shuttle skimming over the tops of trees that were barely visible as vague shadows passing below them. 

The trees thinned, the meager light reflecting off long grass blowing in a clearing. Tom slowed the Flyer to a halt, hovering before gently lowering it to the ground. The blades of grass flattened, crushed under the weight of the shuttle. 

As Tom began shutting down the engines, the others rose and moved towards the rear of the Flyer to gather the mining equipment. 

Expecting a fresh breeze blowing across the meadow, Nicoletti scrunched up her face when she stepped out of the Flyer into the clearing. "Ugh," she muttered as the smell of acrid smoke permeated her nostrils. "What's that stench?" 

"Smells like there must have been a forest fire recently," said Harry as he followed her out of the ship. 

A pair of moons were visible on the horizon, illuminating the terrain so they could see they were standing on the cusp of a large valley. Behind them, the trees they had passed over on their descent stood behind them as a wall of shadow. In front of them, the grassy terrain sloped downwards before sharply dropping off, and as the hum from the Flyer's engines vanished they could make out the distant sound of running water. 

Tricorders in hand, Harry and Nicoletti split up and began moving in different directions, scanning for dilithium deposits. 

Captain Janeway stepped out of the Flyer and paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the pre-dawn darkness. Her gaze turned skyward and she frowned. A haze hung in the air around them, thick enough to block out all but the brightest stars. She narrowed her eyes, but after a few moments turned her gaze away from the heavens and resumed the task at hand. 

After they had been scanning for some time, the hush hanging over the valley was broken by a loud clang and a surprised exclamation from Nicoletti. 

Harry, scanning several meters away, turned towards her. "Hey, you all right?" 

"Yeah. Stepped on something." She held up a long, narrow arc of material that she had inadvertently trod on in the darkness and scanned it with her tricorder. "It's made of some sort of alloy." 

"Debris from a crash, maybe?" suggested Harry. 

"Maybe. The sensors didn't pick up any sign of civilization." 

"We had most of the sensors calibrated to scan for dilithium. We could have missed it." 

Captain Janeway joined them, shouldering some of the mining equipment. "Anything?" 

Nicoletti dropped the mysterious piece of metal. "Not yet." 

Harry motioned over his shoulder. "I think I was getting close to a deposit." 

"Good. Let's move." 

They followed Harry to his previous position and resumed their scanning. Every so often, unusual sounds would break the silence as they happened upon further pieces of debris that seemed out of place in the quiet meadow. 

Within ten minutes they had pinpointed a dilithium deposit a few hundred meters below the surface. The blackness along the horizon above the trees behind them was merging to a softer hue, and by the time they had retrieved the rest of the equipment from the Flyer there was enough ambient light for them to see what they were doing without difficulty. 

While Harry adjusted some of the equipment, Nicoletti stretched to relieve a cramp beginning to form in her lower back and surveyed the landscape. As the sun rose higher above the forest at their backs, the shadow over the valley began to recede, revealing rolling hills of green grass punctuated by trees. 

She frowned as the shadow retreated further and the light began to reach the base of the valley, then let out a horrified gasp. 

Harry glanced up at her, then followed her gaze into the valley. His expression clouded. "Captain!" 

She approached, her eyes becoming somber and grim as she took in the scene. 

The rays from the rising sun pierced eerily through a cloud of smoke that was trailing upwards and spreading out over the valley, covering the catastrophic ruins of a large city. The shells of houses and large buildings hung off dilapidated and charred frames, some of the debris still smoldering. On the opposite side of the valley the wreckage of three small spacecrafts were visible, trails of smoke still swirling upwards. Another craft appeared to have plowed into the hillside that sloped in front of them down towards the valley. 

Tom spoke first, voicing the thought on all of their minds. "The Borg." 

"Who else could do something like this?" agreed Harry. 

"Lifesigns?" asked Nicoletti. 

Tom raised his tricorder and held it in the direction of the carnage; after a few moments he lowered it and shook his head. "I'm not picking up any. We could make a pass with the Delta Flyer, just in case." 

Captain Janeway shook her head slightly, her lips pressed into a firm line. As the sun crept higher, they could make out bodies littering the burnt landscape and the rubble in the streets. "Nothing could have survived down there." 

"We don't know that," said Harry. "Maybe --" 

The captain turned her back on the remains of the city. "We have work to do, Mr. Kim." 

He hesitated for several long seconds, his instincts battling his Starfleet training, but then turned and moved back towards their equipment. 

When the others returned to the mining, she allowed herself one final glance at what must have once been a thriving civilization, but her gaze did not linger and she pulled herself back to the task at hand. 

The sun was beating down on them from overhead by the time their mining was well underway. The air was warm, but the haze of smoke from the ruins below still swirled in the air, the stench of ash and charred flesh stinging their nostrils. 

Checking the rate of dilithium extraction on a display, Harry stood up and looked restlessly over the valley. He fiddled with his tricorder, flipping it over again and again in the palm of his hand, but then paused and shoved it decisively back into the holster on his belt. He moved over to where Captain Janeway and Lieutenant Nicoletti were overseeing another piece of equipment. 

"Captain? I'd like to go scan for more dilithium deposits. We have no way of knowing if this one will last long enough for us to get as much as we need." 

She glanced up, her eyes fixed on him for several very long seconds of intense scrutiny. At last, however, she nodded and returned to her work. "Take Lieutenant Nicoletti with you." 

"I can handle --" 

"That wasn't a suggestion, Ensign." 

"Aye, Captain," he muttered. 

Nicoletti gathered her tricorder and a water bottle and followed Harry. They walked quickly and in silence, and were soon out of sight of the others. 

Harry glanced over his shoulder to ensure they were hidden by the terrain, then swung left, heading down into the valley. 

"Hey!" 

He turned around and saw Nicoletti jogging after him, tricorder in hand. "What?" he asked. 

"What are you doing?" 

"I'm going to make sure there aren't any survivors down there." 

"Captain Janeway said -- " 

"I know what she said, but I'm not going to ignore the possibility that there are people down there who need our help." 

She frowned. "You know, technically I outrank you, _Ensign_." 

"I'm a bridge officer. So technically, I outrank _you_, Lieutenant." 

Her frown deepened. "I'll have to look that up," she muttered. 

"Regulation fifty-six, subsection d. Besides, you agree with me." He turned his back on her and started again on the path down into the valley. "Are you coming, or not?" 

She stood rooted in place until he was out of sight. She stole a glance back towards their impromptu campsite, but then with a deep breath she turned back and started down the path after him. 

..... 

Tom held the dilithium canister steady as Captain Janeway wrestled with the equipment, attempting to secure the valve of the full canister supported by Tom so they could replace it with an empty one. 

"There," she gasped finally, straightening with a wince. 

Tom pulled the canister free and set it on its end. The storage containers were waist-height, almost half a meter in diameter and made of thick titanium for secure transportation. "One down." 

"Twenty to go," added the captain with a sigh as she took the new canister Tom passed her. 

"I remember when I used to _like_ away missions," he muttered with a snort. "Shore leave, I think we used to call it." 

"I suppose it has been a while since we've all been able to stretch our legs." 

"Almost four years," Tom replied instantly. 

She shoved the seal into place on the canister and reactivated the extraction sequence, then turned to look at him with a quizzical frown. "Has it been that long?" 

"Since before Miral was born. She's never been off the ship." 

She patted him on the shoulder. "We'll get through this, Tom. We won't be fighting the Borg forever." 

"I appreciate the sentiment, Captain, but you don't know that. The Borg spread like a virus... we have no way of telling how far their space extends, how far it will extend three months from now, or if we'll get out of it alive." 

"I have faith." 

"I know you do. It's why the rest of us haven't lost ours in eleven years." 

She looked at him in surprise, but he was busy with the equipment and was unaware of her scrutiny. Unsure whether to be concerned or consoled by the sentiment, she busied herself with scanning the dilithium as it was extracted and tried to keep her mind off their larger predicament and focused on their current one. 

_One thing at a time,_ she told herself. _One thing at a time._

..... 

Something resembling a limp bundle of rags lay near the edge of what appeared to be the remains of a once beautiful plaza. The rough ground crunching under his shoes, Harry moved closer and knelt beside it. Rolling it over, a lifeless face stared back at him. It was a small boy with thick dark grey mottled skin. The front of his skull was smashed, dark green blood caked over his forehead and dried in streaks down his face. 

Lieutenant Nicoletti knelt beside him. Their eyes met, then turned back to the dead youth. 

"Come on," Harry muttered, looking away and once again surveying their surroundings for other signs of survivors. 

They split off in different directions, their tricorders extended in front of them, scanning for any indications of life. 

"Harry! I've got something!" 

He jogged towards the sound of her voice, stepping around chinks of rock, metal, and debris. Rounding the corner of a crumbling building, he saw Nicoletti kneeling next to a pile of debris under a half-fallen arch, frantically clearing away chunks of rock. 

"What is it?" 

She looked up, pushing a lock of hair off her forehead. "The tricorder picked up something under this rock pile," she gasped. 

He fell to his knees beside her, helping her push aside a large fragment of the arch. "Lifesigns?" 

She shook her head, brushing the back of her sleeve across her forehead. "I can't be sure, but it was definitely something." 

For every rock and chunk of debris they shifted, three more were underneath it and at first it wasn't obvious that they were making even the smallest dent on the pile of rubble. However, a shallow pit slowly began to form, leading them closer to the source of the tricorder readings. 

His lungs heaving from the exertion and the dust and debris they were inhaling, Harry wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve and sat back. Taking in the shape and angle of the mound of rubble they were perched on, he frowned thoughtfully before climbing to his feet. 

"I'm going to take a look around the other side," he said. "We might have a better chance at getting to whomever's trapped under there." 

She nodded but was too strained and focused to take the trouble of answering. 

He scrambled down the pile, loose rocks clattering under his feet and his arms extended to keep his balance on the precarious ground. Moving around what little remained of a massive arch, he circled the hill of debris and extended his tricorder. 

"The readings are stronger from this side," he called out. "The debris mustn't be as deep over here." 

"Should we try digging from there?" she yelled back. 

He frowned. "Hold on.... something's not right." 

"What is it?" 

"The tricorder readings. It doesn't look like a lifesign. More like... some kind of energy signature." 

He looked up as he stepped past a half-collapsed pillar that had been blocking his view of the underside of the heap of rock and debris they had been frantically digging at. He froze and his eyes widened. 

It only took a split second for his shock to be suppressed and his instincts to kick in. "Get down from there!" he yelled as took several tentative steps backwards. 

"What?" she called back, her voice muffled by the wall of debris separating them. 

He spun on his heel and began running in the direction he had come. "Get down!" he yelled again. 

As he rounded the heap of rock and metal, he saw her making her way back down to the ground. "Harry, what --" 

"RUN!" He grabbed her arm and pulled her along with him, sprinting as fast as his legs could pump. 

A high-pitched wail pierced the air, spurring his steps. There was barely time for them to register the loud explosion from behind them before the force of the shockwave slammed them into the ground. Harry's vision shattered into a kaleidoscope of colours and then everything went black. 

..... 

Captain Janeway looked up from her scanning with a frown as the sound of an explosion echoed through the air. A large flock of birds took flight in valley, passing through a mushrooming cloud of dust rising above the trees. 

She instinctively drew her phaser as her eyes searched the surroundings for any threat. "Janeway to Ensign Kim," she snapped urgently as she tapped her commbadge. 

When there was silence, she repeated herself. There was still no answer. 

She glanced over at Tom as he approached, a concerned frown distorting his normally upbeat features. 

"How long since they left?" 

"Half an hour, maybe." 

"Get back to the Flyer -- see if you can get a transporter lock." 

"There's a lot of ambient radiation, probably from the Borg attack. It'll be near impossible to get a transporter lock through it." 

"Then we'll just have to go out and look for them." She turned and moved back towards where they had set up their equipment. "I'll shut down the mining equipment; get some water and medical supplies from the Flyer." 

"Right." 

Captain Janeway looked back towards the valley as Tom took off in the direction of the Flyer at a brisk jog. A frown darkened her features. _Harry, what have you gotten yourself in to?_

..... 

Stumbling through the murky waters of semi-consciousness, Harry's mind followed the soothing, rhythmic beeping of a tricorder for several minutes before his last few moments of consciousness returned in a horrifying flash and he opened his eyes with a sharp intake of breath. 

"Whoa... take it easy." 

He turned towards the familiar voice and saw Tom leaning over him. 

"What... happened?" he asked groggily. He looked around him and recognized the hold of the Delta Flyer, realizing that he was entrenched in one of the medical beds. 

"I was hoping you could tell us that. We found you unconscious and beaten to a pulp at the edge of a nasty-looking crater." 

More information flooded Harry's brain. "Nicoletti! Is she --" 

"Worse off than you. Internal bleeding, broken bones, and some serious neurological injuries from the concussion." 

"Will she be okay?" he croaked in a horrified voice. 

"I've got her stabilized for now. Doc should be able to fix her up once we get back to Voyager." He glanced at his tricorder. "As for you, I've healed your broken ribs, but I wouldn't go doing any Klingon calisthenics for a while. You also had a mild concussion. You're lucky it was't worse from the looks of that hole blasted on top of you." 

Harry sighed, massaging his tender side. "We thought we detected a lifesign under a pile of rubble, but it was an energy signature... from an undetonated Borg torpedo with an unstable warhead. I realized what it was and we tried to run... obviously, we didn't make it." 

"What were you doing down there in the first place? I thought you went scanning for dilithium." 

Harry opened his mouth to answer but saw Tom's eyes dart to the doorway to the cargo hold and he froze. 

"Could you excuse us, Tom?" said the unmistakably icy tone of Captain Janeway from outside Harry's field of vision. 

Tom glanced back at Harry and gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder before he left. 

Sitting up gingerly, he saw Tom step around Captain Janeway and exit the Flyer. She watched him leave, then turned back to Harry. 

Harry's eyes seemed to have a will of their own, rising up to meet hers despite his conscious efforts to keep them locked on the floor. "I suppose you want an explanation." 

Her eyes burned into him, the blue irises radiating like cold steel. "I don't need one. You were down in that valley looking for survivors, despite the orders I expressly gave to the contrary." 

"If there was anyone down there, we had an obligation to help them." 

"I agree." 

"But then why --" 

"Because we have a greater obligation to Voyager. It will take us longer to get the dilithium we need working short handed, and we wasted an hour of daylight looking for you." She looked at him calmly, her cutting tone more unnerving than outright anger would have been. "The longer Voyager waits for us at the rendezvous, the longer they're an easy target for the Borg, with the warp drive in the condition it's in. There was almost no chance of finding survivors, so I didn't feel it was worth the time to search." 

"Even if there was a one in a million chance, isn't it still worth trying?" 

"When there's so much else at stake? No, I don't think it is." 

Harry turned away, his jaw clenched. She turned to leave, but his sharp tones called her back. 

"I remember a time not too long ago when you would have risked a lot based on a slim chance like I did today." 

She stood perfectly still for a few moments, and when she turned to face him and spoke her voice had a flinty edge. "You made a mistake, Harry, but it won't be you that pays the price. Lieutenant Nicoletti already did; we'll be fortunate if no one else does." 

"I screwed up, but I did it because I thought I could help people and given another opportunity, I'd probably do it again!" His momentum spent, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he offered. 

"I gave you a direct order, Ensign. I expected you to trust me and follow it." She watched as his expression fell and his eyes moved to examine his boots. "And don't ever lie to me again." 

By the time Harry found the courage to meet her furious gaze, his eyes only found the back of her head as she turned on her heel and strode down the open ramp of the Delta Flyer. 

..... 

_Captain's Log, Delta Flyer, Stardate 58294.6. Our mining operation took longer than I anticipated, but we have collected enough dilithium for Lieutenant Torres to return the warp drive to full capacity and are now returning to Voyager._

"We're approaching the rendezvous coordinates," announced Tom from the helm. 

"Bring us out of warp," ordered the captain. 

The stars streaking past the Delta Flyer merged into distinct points of light as Tom dropped the ship to impulse. An ominous silence fell inside the cabin as they looked out at the empty void outside the shuttle. 

"Mr. Kim?" asked the captain finally, her clipped tones ringing in their ears as their expectations of a warm welcome evaporated. 

"Scans aren't picking up any sign of Voyager within two light years." 

"Borg?" 

He shook his head. "A couple of ion trails, but from the decay I'd guess they're several months old." 

Intermittent beeping from the consoles was the only sound inside the shuttle for several long moments. 

"We were gone longer than we expected," said Harry at last. "They should have been here by now." 

"They must have been delayed," said Tom. The slight waver in his voice suggested that he was trying to convince himself as much as the others. "Maybe they had trouble with the warp drive." 

"It's too early for speculation," said the captain. "Any number of things could have detained them." She took a moment to purge the vivid image of Voyager surrounded by Borg cubes, helpless under a torrent of weapons fire, from her mind. Turning back to the tactical console, she kept her face an impassionate mask. "Well just have to wait." 

She looked towards the helm and locked eyes with Tom, whose penetrating stare nearly unseated the careful control of her countenance she had just imposed. "Lieutenant?" 

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, and turned back to the helm. 

"Mr. Kim," she continued, keeping her gaze fastened on her console, "continue long-range scans." 

"Aye, Captain." 

She glanced up to ensure that both men were focused on their own stations, then began discreetly checking the status of their weapons and shields, hoping fervently that for once, the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach was wrong. 

..... 

_Captain's Log, Delta Flyer, Stardate 58301.7. It's been three days since we arrived at the rendezvous coordinates. There has been no sign of Voyager, but I remain confident that they won't keep us waiting for much longer._

"Why don't we go looking for them?" 

Captain Janeway looked up at Harry and held his gaze before turning back to her station. "They might have altered course to avoid the Borg." The image of Voyager besieged by Borg cubes flashed briefly before her eyes. "If we try to go looking for them, we'd risk crossing paths. We're better off remaining here where they expect us to be." 

Harry nodded thoughtfully as he continued his scans. "They should have been here at least ten days ago," he suggested after a few moments. "Maybe they went out looking for us." 

A chill ran down the captain's spine, her last conversation with Chakotay echoing ominously in her mind. For once, she hoped he would disobey a direct order. 

But then, that shred of hope evaporated. "They would have left a message beacon," she realized. 

Harry's shoulders slumped. "Right." 

She watched him as he stared listlessly at his console. She started to speak, but found herself at a loss for words of comfort and turned back to her own scans, letting them both remain alone with their thoughts. 

..... 

Lieutenant Nicoletti turned her head slightly as she heard footsteps approach her bunk, but was unable to determine the identity of her visitor until Tom crouched down beside her. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked, pulling out a medical tricorder and beginning to scan her. 

Her voice was hoarse and it took more effort than she expected to answer. "Like a photon torpedo went off next to me." 

He didn't react to her attempted humour. "Well," he said after studying his initial scans, "looks like your internal bleeding has stopped and your broken bones have healed." 

"And the Vulcan gong going off in my head?" 

A hint of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth but lasted only a fraction of a second before he reverted to his grim expression. "I've done all I can for the neurological damage. You'll have to hang in there until... we get back to Voyager." 

She winced and rubbed her temple. "How far are we from the rendezvous?" 

The motion of the tricorder wand stopped. "We're..." 

For the first time she noticed the dark circles under his eyes and his white-knuckled grip on the tricorder. "What is it?" 

He sighed and replaced the scanning wand in its berth. "We arrived at the rendezvous five days ago." 

She propped herself up slightly on her elbows. "What?" 

He fingered the tricorder, avoiding her gaze. "We... don't know where they are... why they haven't shown up or tried to contact us...." He cleared his throat. "We've... thought about starting a search, heading for their last position... the Captain wants to wait, for now." 

She fell back on the bed in stunned silence, her eyes wide as she placed a trembling hand over her mouth. 

"Get some rest," he said finally, climbing to his feet. "Let me know if you need anything." 

She nodded, staring blankly at the bunk above her through the tears welling in her eyes before squeezing them shut. 

..... 

_Captain's Log, Delta Flyer, Stardate 58339.4. We've now been waiting for word from Voyager for sixteen days. I've decided to begin searching for them -- sitting here helpless to do anything but continue long-range scans is beginning to wear on the crew both mentally and physically. At least a search may provide us with some semblance of control over the situation._

The captain emerged from the hold of the Flyer and strode purposefully towards the helm. 

"Mr. Paris," she said as she took her seat at tactical, "calculate Voyager's last known position and project their course to the rendezvous, then map out a search grid." 

Without looking up, she could sense his eyes on her. "Aye, captain," he replied after a few moments. 

"Ensign Kim," she continued, "prepare a class three beacon and encrypt it with a message for Voyager explaining our intentions; I don't want to leave only to have them show up right behind us and wonder where we are." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

"Course laid in," said Tom, swiveling his chair to face her and this time meeting her eyes. 

She nodded. "Engage as soon as the beacon is launched. Warp 8." 

..... 

_Captain's Log, Delta Flyer, Stardate 58352.5. After five days of searching, we've found no sign of Voyager. Without any clues as to where they might have gone or what may have prevented them from reaching the rendezvous, we have no choice but to continue with our search grid and hope for the best._

Captain Janeway slowly approached the helm, her strained eyes focused on the back of Tom's head as he looked back and forth between the various displays in front of him. She stood at the top of the ramp leading down to the helm, the silence in the cabin punctuated only by the beeping of the consoles in front of Tom. 

"Anything?" she asked finally. 

He didn't seem at all startled by her voice, aware of her presence well before she spoke. "No." 

She moved down the ramp and stood behind his chair. "I know you're worried about them, Tom. We all are." She paused. "You've been at the helm for fourteen hours straight, and you haven't slept for two days." 

"Neither have you," he returned. 

"I outrank you." 

His hands stopped their motion across his controls and after a few moments, he swiveled his chair to face her as she leaned with one hip against the railing. "Are you going to order me relieved, Captain?" 

"I'd rather not have to." 

He looked out at the stars streaking past the Flyer as it carved out its search grid, then turned back to her with a tortured expression twisting his features. "I don't expect you to sit idly by. Why do you expect me to?" 

"I don't," she assured him. "But neither of us can do any good when we're exhausted." 

He stared at her for a long time, then nodded in resignation. "Fine." He rose, surrendering the helm to her. "I'll go get some sleep." 

She placed her hand on the back of the pilot's seat, preparing to take over. "Thank you." 

"If you'll do the same when I get back." 

She was silent for a few moments, then nodded her agreement. He started to move past her, but she stopped him as he drew alongside her with a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find them, Tom." 

He looked down at the floor. "Yeah." 

She squeezed his shoulder. "Tom." He drew his eyes upwards to meet hers. "_We'll find them._" 

With an absentminded nod, he turned and moved towards the rear of the Flyer. The captain watched him go, concern swimming in her blue eyes. Then, with a sigh, she took a seat in front of the controls and began monitoring their progress along the search grid. 

She lost track of time as her eyes followed wave after wave of sensor sweeps, so she was startled when Lieutenant Nicoletti spoke from behind her. 

"Any sign of them?" 

"Not yet." She glanced over her shoulder with a frown. "You should be resting, Lieutenant." 

"I'm fine." 

"Is that your opinion, or Tom's?" 

Her eyes darted to the floor and back, giving her away, but she met the captain's gaze without flinching. "I need to do something, Captain. I can't just lay on that bunk all day trying not to think about what might have happened to them." 

The captain scrutinized her, then nodded as he turned back to the helm. "Take your station, Lieutenant." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

"And see if you can't increase the sensitivity of our long-range sensors." 

"Aye, Captain." 

..... 

Harry approached the helm but Captain Janeway remained facing the viewscreen. He waited for several moments, sure she had heard him, but she gave no sign that she was aware of his presence. 

"Any sign of them?" he asked, anticipating the answer. 

"No." 

A pause. Then, "Do you want me to take over?" 

"I'm fine." 

Another long silence ensued, broken only by the intermittent noise of the computer running continuous scans along the search grid. 

Harry cleared his throat. "Captain, about what happened on the planet --" 

"We've got more important things to worry about, Harry." 

"A few days might make the difference whether we find them in time or not." 

"Maybe. But we have no way of knowing, and there's no point in dwelling on it." 

He scrutinized her, and though unable to see her expression he had an uncanny sense of what was going through her mind. "It's not your fault, Captain." 

She remained with her back to him, but the motion of her hands across the controls slowed and then stopped. 

Harry took a few steps towards her. "Whatever's happened to them... even if you had stayed on Voyager, you might not have been able to prevent it." 

Closing her eyes, she was glad that he couldn't see the tortured expression she was unable to conceal. 

He waited, hoping she would answer, but as the seconds ticked by, marked by the steady beeping of the computer, he sighed and turned away. She remained staring into the empty space in front of the shuttle, a hollow, haunted expression in her eyes. 

..... 

_Captain's Log, Delta Flyer, Stardate 58381.6. Our third week of searching has been no more productive than our first. We've picked up several Borg cubes on long range sensors, but so far they don't appear to have detected us._

Captain Janeway descended the stairs into the hold and saw Tom sitting on one of the bunks, sunk into the shadows. She glanced over at the opposite bunk, but Lieutenant Nicoletti was sleeping. 

She took a seat next to Tom and rested a comforting hand on his knee. She tried to think of something to say, but noticed the fluffy object he had clenched in his fists. 

"Miral's," he said quietly, squeezing the stuffed Panda. "I found it in my bag. She... she wouldn't let me leave without it." 

She patted his knee reassuringly. "Tom, we --" 

He jumped to his feet, the toy still tightly clutched in one fist. "I shouldn't have left them." 

"We don't know --" 

"It's been almost two months since we left, Captain," he snapped, in evident anguish. "A lot can go wrong in two months, in the middle of Borg space, and who knows what kind of condition the ship was in." 

"We shouldn't assume the worst." She looked down at her boots, willing herself to believe her own words. "I know you wouldn't have come on this mission unless you thought it was what was best for the ship." A deep breath helped to steady her. "They're out there somewhere, and we're going to find them." 

"Do you really believe that?" he asked in a tremulous, desperate voice. 

She lifted her eyes and met his penetrating stare. "I have to." 

..... 

Captain Janeway's breathing was shallow and ragged as she circled Voyager's bridge. The flashlight strapped to her wrist carved out an uneven, trembling path as it swept the floor, traveling over debris and the motionless corpses of her crew. 

A pair of drones were sprawled in front of the viewscreen. An ensign whose name escaped her was crumpled at the foot of the helm, crimson streaks of blood through her blonde hair. 

Her flashlight swept upwards, finding more bodies as she moved towards the rear of the bridge. She approached the security console, the beam of light extending in front of her shaking as she looked behind it to find Tuvok sprawled lifelessly against the wall, his uniform caked with blood and a large gash across his chest. Two Borg drones were laying in a heap at his feet. Doubtless he had fought them to his last breath. 

She knelt next to him and gently closed his unseeing eyes. She rested an unsteady hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Tuvok," she whispered. 

She gasped as his eyes snapped open and he grabbed her hand with an iron grip. 

"Captain," he said hoarsely, his breathing laboured. 

"Tuvok," she said, recovering from her shock and grabbing him by the shoulders. "The crew, the ship! What happened?" 

"They are all... dead...." 

"What happened?" 

"You... abandoned us, Captain." 

She released her grip on his shoulders. "No, I --" 

"Captain?" 

The bridge of Voyager evaporated as her eyes snapped open. The bodies of her crew were gone and all she could see was the dull grey base of the bunk above her. 

Her heart still pounding, she looked over to see Harry kneeling next to her, his hand on her shoulder. "Captain? Are you all right?" 

She groggily pressed her hand to her forehead as if trying to force out the lingering images from her nightmare. "I'm fine, just a little... disoriented. What is it?" 

He frowned uncertainly. "You asked me to wake you after four hours." 

She sat up slowly and swung her feet off the edge of the bunk. "Has it been four hours already?" It seemed only moments ago that she had collapsed onto the bunk, exhausted. 

"Actually, it's been six," he said, offering his hand to assist her to her feet. When she shot him an accusing glare, he added, "I thought you could use the extra sleep." 

She let it pass as they made their way up the stairs towards the main cabin. "Report." 

"Nothing new." He sighed. "No warp signature, no ion trail, no comm signal. Nothing." 

The captain massaged the side of her head as she reached the tactical station. Tom was at the helm but appeared occupied with his own thoughts and didn't turn around or acknowledge them. "Go get some sleep, Harry," she said finally. 

He hesitated, started to turn away, but then reconsidered and faced her again. "Captain..." he began, keeping his voice low. 

She anticipated him. "We haven't found debris, or any sign that they were attacked by the Borg." 

"We haven't found any sign that they're all right, either." 

She had no response to that, and had to turn away to keep him from seeing the doubt she was sure was written in her eyes. "Get some rest, Harry," she repeated. 

He started to turn away, but paused and after a few moments abruptly faced her again. 

"Captain..." He took an audible deep breath. "We're all thinking the same thing, no matter how hard we're trying not to." 

Her hands stopped their motion across the tactical console but she kept her back to him. 

"I know how much it would take to stop me from trying to find the Flyer, if I were on Voyager. It's been over a month since we arrived at the rendezvous, and we haven't found any sign of them." He paused, but she made no move to answer. "At some point, we have to consider the possibility that we're not going to." 

"I'm not prepared to give up. We'll keep looking." 

"For how long?" 

She clenched her jaw and stared fixedly out the front of the Flyer. "As long as it takes." 

..... 

_Captain's Personal Log, Stardate 58396.9. Despite my best efforts, I've found it difficult to put Harry's comments out of my mind. Part of me knows he has a point, but the rest of me isn't willing to admit defeat yet. I refuse to give up hope that Voyager is safe and sound somewhere, and I'm not ready to face abandoning them._

Lieutenant Nicoletti looked up as Harry entered the hold, her hands fluttering anxiously clasped above her knees. Harry paused when he saw her, but after a moment he descended the final few steps and moved towards her, taking a seat on the opposite bunk. 

"How are you doing?" 

"My head still feels like it's in the middle of a continuous warp breach, but otherwise I'm fine." 

"That's not... I meant, how are you holding up?" 

"Do you really think we should give up hope?" 

He frowned. "What makes you think I've given up?" 

"I can see it in your eyes." 

He sighed and his gaze sought the refuge of the tops of his boots. "I haven't... not entirely, at least. But we can't ignore the possibility that we're not going to find them." 

She got a hollow, cold look in her eyes and her hands began trembling again. "I used to think Voyager was alone out here... seems like nothing, now." 

A heavy silence fell, broken after an unbearably long period by Harry. "What would you do, if it was your decision to make?" 

"What?" 

"Stay out here, looking for Voyager, or start heading for the Alpha Quadrant." 

She looked down at the floor. "I always hated the Kobayashi Maru simulation at the Academy," she said after a few moments. "Took it six times before I passed. I almost dropped out." She sighed. "I always complained to my brothers that it was unfair; that no decision, no situation could actually be that bad. Guess I was wrong." 

He looked away and regretted his question. "Are your brothers in Starfleet, too?" he asked, trying to change the subject. 

"All three of them." She smiled despite herself. "When we were young, my brothers could always jump the highest, and run the fastest. Then they all entered the Academy, and I decided that they weren't going to beat me again. That I was going to be the one who discovered the most new species, charted the most systems, and traveled the farthest." Her expression saddened. "And I guess I have. Lucky me, huh? I bet my nieces and nephews that I've never met get to hear all about their Aunt Sue, the great explorer." 

He smiled sadly and squeezed her shoulder. "Just imagine how excited they'll be to meet you if we get home." 

She looked up at him, a mixture of surprise and sadness in her eyes at his choice of words. 

He sobered and his hand dropped from her arm with a sigh. "Listen, I should..." 

"Yeah." 

"They could use my help up there." 

"Go, Harry. It's okay." 

He rose and headed towards the bridge without looking at her. Her eyes followed him up the stairs until he was out of sight, then she laid back on the bunk with her arms behind her head and stared off into nothingness. 

..... 

"Captain?" 

The light stung her eyes as she sluggishly forced them open. She sat up slowly with a frown and combed her fingers through her disheveled hair. "What time is it?" she muttered. 

"O400," replied Tom. "We've found something you should see." 

Instantly awake, she followed him up the stairs to the main cabin. "Report," she demanded as they reached the science station where Harry and Lieutenant Nicoletti were bent over a display. 

"Sensors picked up some debris," said Harry. "We altered course to take a closer look. The alloy composition is definitely Federation." He handed her a charred piece of metal with jagged edges. With a sinking feeling in her stomach she brushed away the soot with her thumb and made out the letters USS V. 

"Is it...?" 

"Too small," said Tom immediately. "Even for a shuttlecraft." 

"A probe?" 

"Or a message beacon," agreed Harry. 

"Is there any chance of recovering its telemetry or data?" 

"That's the biggest piece we found," replied Lieutenant Nicoletti. 

She turned the metal shard over in her hand, tracing the rough incinerated edge with one finger. "I suppose I don't need to ask what caused this." 

"We detected traces of a Borg weapons signature," confirmed Harry. 

Her expression was unreadable as she cleared more of the blackened dust covering the letters. 

"This could mean they tried to contact us," said Tom. "To explain why they were delayed." 

"Only the Borg found it before we did," added Nicoletti. 

"Let's just hope they don't find Voyager before us, too," said Harry grimly. 

"It's a start," said the captain. "I want this area combed with every sensor we've got. See if you can determine what direction this came from." She fingered the scorched lettering. "It could be our only shot at finding them." 

..... 

_Captain's Log, Delta Flyer, Stardate 58402.4. We're now entering the twenty-fifth day of our search for Voyager. It's been almost two months since I set foot on my bridge: the longest absence of my command. We've found nothing new since our discovery of the wrecked probe. I'm unsure whether to take it as a sign of hope that Voyager attempted to contact us, or whether the probe's destruction forebodes a similar fate for Voyager. Only time will tell._

The distinctive beep from the helm called the attention of all four of the Delta Flyer's occupants simultaneously. They had become accustomed to the routine and futile noises emitted by the constant sensor sweeps, and they recognized the difference instantly. 

Within seconds, Tom's fingers were deftly moving over the controls. "It's an ion trail." 

Harry was also quickly pulling up more detailed scans. "Analyzing...." 

The sounds in the cabin seemed to vanish as they waited for a few unbearable seconds. 

"It's Voyager's," he announced triumphantly. 

Captain Janeway closed her eyes briefly and sighed in momentary relief. "Scan for a warp signature nearby," she said, forcing herself back into the present. 

"I'm not picking up one," said Lieutenant Nicoletti. 

"They must have had trouble with the warp drive," said Tom. 

"Can you tell how old it is, Harry?" 

He frowned. "There's a lot of decay and interference... best guess, it's at least fifty days old." 

The captain quickly worked backwards. "That would be... our first week of dilithium mining. They should have been on the way to the rendezvous." 

"Unless they were limited to impulse, with the Borg closing in," said Nicoletti. 

Captain Janeway's eyes narrowed as she thought through the situation. "They couldn't make it to the rendezvous, they couldn't outrun the Borg.... they took the only available option." 

"They launched a beacon and looked for cover," finished Harry in understanding as she met his gaze. 

"Tom, start scanning for nearby systems they could have used to hide from the Borg." 

"Aye, Captain." 

"Fifty days is a long time to stay hidden," observed Harry. "They wouldn't get very far on impulse." 

Captain Janeway pressed her lips into a tight line and tried to conceal the fact that the same thought had just crossed her mind. 

..... 

_Captain's Log, Delta Flyer, Stardate 58411.2. We've tracked Voyager's ion trail over three hundred billion kilometers without finding any further trace of them; I'm now absolutely convinced that their warp drive was offline. Adding to my increasing unease, we've detected signs of recent Borg activity along the same course but so far no sign of a battle._

"Captain? We're coming up on the red dwarf system." 

She nodded without looking up at the helm. "Drop us to one half impulse." 

A massive red sun appeared in the distance on the viewscreen, circled by several visible planets. 

Her eyes roamed the viewscreen, hoping against reason to see Voyager sailing towards them unharmed, but she found nothing but the stars and planets. "Start scanning for any sign of them," she ordered, swallowing her bitter disappointment. 

"There are five planets and two moons," said Harry. "None of them M-class." 

Captain Janeway leaned forward, elbows resting on her console as she massaged her temples in a vain attempt to stop the incessant pounding in her head. She scrutinized the readouts, her frustration slowly and inexorably building. _Think, Kathryn. Think, dammit! You're crippled, without warp, and the Borg are on your tail. You've limped to this system... now where do you hide?_

"Captain?" 

She looked up at Tom's urgent tone. "What is it?" 

When he didn't turn around, she looked past him outside the shuttle. The Flyer was drawing closer to a gas giant, a blue and grey swirl of vapours surrounded by several luminescent rings. As they rounded the planet, something else was coming into view: Voyager, in an equatorial orbit above the planet's rings. The hull was blackened and scorched, and a hull breach low on the saucer section was visible even from a distance. No lights were visible, and one of the nacelles appeared badly damaged. 

"Hail them," she snapped urgently. 

Tom slowly reached forward and opened a channel. "Voyager, this is the Delta Flyer. Do you read?" 

The only reply was static. 

"Delta Flyer to Voyager," he repeated, his voice straining. "Please respond." 

The seconds ticked by slowly as they waited with baited breath for what seemed like an eternity before there was a crackle over the comm. 

_We read you, Delta Flyer,_ came Chakotay's voice. _Welcome home._

"You're a sight for sore eyes," replied Tom ecstatically. 

_The feeling's mutual. We're opening the shuttle bay doors._

"Acknowledged." 

Tom angled the Flyer into a smooth approach. As Voyager's stern loomed larger, they could see more signs of recent damage. A heavy silence fell in the cabin as they impatiently waited for Tom to guide the small vessel to the entrance of the shuttle bay. They glided smoothly through the doors and set down with a quiet thump. 

Captain Janeway leaned back in her chair and heaved a deep sigh. She sat there for a few moments, basking in relief, before she roused herself and moved with quick steps towards the rear of the Flyer. 

She moved slowly down the ramp, stepping almost gingerly onto the cargo bay floor as though afraid it were an apparition that would vanish without warning. Her sigh of relief was audible when she felt Voyager's solid bulkheads under the soles of her Starfleet-issue boots once again. 

The sound of Harry and Lieutenant Nicoletti exiting the Flyer from behind her drew her from her thoughts and she took in her surroundings. The shuttle bay showed signs of recent battle damage, with far more loose conduits, missing bulkheads, and exposed wiring than when she had last set foot here. The doors leading to the corridor were too warped to shut properly and remained wedged in a half-open position which allowed her to see Chakotay and the EMH before they reached the shuttle bay. 

She hadn't believed that she had given up hope of finding Voyager, but the flood of emotions that rushed at her upon seeing them made her realize that she hadn't expected to see any of her crew again. 

"Captain," said Chakotay simply as they met halfway into the shuttle bay. 

"Commander." 

"You're late," he said, his voice rougher than usual. 

"We got a little lost," she replied in a near whisper. She took a deep breath, allowing some of her exhilaration and relief to show through her expression. She reached out and rested her hand on the side of his arm. "It's good to see you, Chakotay." 

"You too, Kathryn." 

She saw three engineers enter the shuttle bay behind Chakotay. "There are twenty-one canisters of dilithium in the Flyer's hold," she informed them as they approached. "Get them to Engineering; I think it's time we got underway again." 

"Yes, ma'am," replied Ensign Ashmore. 

She glanced over her shoulder and saw Tom emerge from the Flyer as Ashmore and the others began to organize transporting the dilithium, then turned and began walking with Chakotay towards the corridor. 

"What happened?" she asked as she climbed over the debris in the doorway. 

"We were attacked by the Borg three days after you left. We managed to find a hole in their shields long enough to beam a photon torpedo right on top of their reactor core, but not before they took out our warp drive." They ducked to avoid a fallen beam."There were three cubes and two spheres on long-range sensors, so we launched the message beacon and focused on trying to avoid another assault until you returned." 

"Casualties?" 

"None. We were lucky." 

"Hm." 

They stopped at the turbolift. "How long did it take for you to get our message?" 

She looked steadily ahead at the turbolift doors. "We didn't," she said tersely. 

The doors opened and she stepped inside, but he remained fixed in place, staring at her with a confused expression. "If you didn't find the beacon... how did you know where to look for us?" 

She stared at him for a long pause before answering. "We found the beacon in pieces, over thirty lightyears from the rendezvous coordinates. We managed to pick up your ion trail and it led us here." 

He looked at her with surprise, his expression darkening as he realized what the situation must have looked like from her perspective. 

She avoided meeting his gaze and he joined her in the turbolift. 

"Bridge," she ordered as the doors hissed shut. They stood listening to the pulsing hum of the lift for several decks before she spoke again. "What happened after you launched the beacon?" 

"We set a course for this system as fast as the impulse engines would take us. We had a few close calls, but we made it and went into orbit above the rings -- they have a high concentration of duranium and block us from all but the most detailed sensor scans." 

She nodded and they fell into silence again. 

"Deck three took some heavy damage, but your quarters are still intact." 

"Good." 

The turbolift slowed to a halt. He took a step forward, but she put a hand on his arm. "Chakotay..." 

He turned and looked at her with a quizzical expression. 

"Thank you," she said, her hand still lingering on his sleeve. 

He frowned. "For what?" 

"For keeping them safe." 

"Always, Kathryn." 

"I know. But thank you, all the same." 

He nodded, and they stepped out of the turbolift. "Captain on the bridge," he announced. 

..... 

B'Elanna glanced up from her console as she usually did whenever the doors to Main Engineering opened, but her gaze returned to her console for only a fraction of a second before she looked up again. Ashmore, Tabor, and Yosa were maneuvering two anti-grav units loaded with large cannisters through the doorway towards the warp core. 

The PADD in her hand dropped to the console with a clatter as she stepped towards the door, moving slowly at first and then with increasing urgency. 

"Looks to be at least 500 kilos of raw ore, Lieutenant," reported Ashmore as she neared them. "Even once it's refined, it'll be more than enough to get the engines going again." 

"We've got the refining equipment set up already," she said tersely. "Get started as soon as possible." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

They started to move past her, but she grabbed Tabor by the sleeve. "Where's Tom?" she demanded. "Have you seen him?" 

Tabor nodded. "He asked me to tell you he'll be right behind us." 

"Is he okay?" 

"Yeah, he seemed fine." He shrugged. "He said he just had something to take care of first." 

..... 

Tom entered his quarters and tossed his bag on the floor inside the doorway as he looked around with a contented smile. He only had to wait for a few seconds before he heard the telltale scurrying of feet approaching from the adjacent room. 

"Daddy!" 

Miral streaked toward him as fast as her legs could carry her. He knelt down and swept her up as she bowled into him. 

"Hey, kiddo," he said softly, squeezing her against his chest. "Didja miss me?" 

..... 

The chime of the ready room door sounded oddly out of tune among the notes of a Vivaldi sonata wafting through the room. 

Captain Janeway looked up from the ship's log entries she was reviewing. "Computer, pause music." She set down her PADD. "Come in," she called in the direction of the door. 

The doors hissed open to reveal Tuvok. He glanced around the room, taking in the charred beams exposed in the ceiling and the pile of panels and debris swept into one corner. "Am I disturbing you, Captain?" 

"Not at all." 

"I expected to find you in your quarters at this hour." 

"My quarters didn't weather my absence particularly well." She gestured to the surrounding chaos. "This is actually an improvement." 

As he approached, she could see he was carrying a series of PADDs. "The relevant ship reports from the past two months," he explained as she extended a hand without rising from her chair and took them. 

As she glanced over them, he added, "I suspected that you would not be at ease until you were caught up with ship's business." 

"You know me too well, Tuvok." Her slight smile faded as she read over the damage reports and repair plans. "Sometimes I wonder what's holding this ship together besides sheer force of will," she sighed. 

"Voyager's condition in light of the damage it has sustained during our time in the Delta Quadrant is, indeed, surprising." 

"That it is. You were lucky to have avoided a more serious confrontation with the Borg," she said, frowning as she read the details of the report. 

"As were you, Captain." 

"We weren't crippled." 

"Still, it is likely that even a small Borg vessel could have overpowered the Delta Flyer." 

"You're forgetting we had the transphasic torpedoes." 

"I am not. They are, however, still untested against a Borg vessel." 

"Then I guess we're lucky we didn't have to find out the hard way. This time, at least," she added. 

"Indeed." He rose to his feet. "I will leave you to your work, Captain." 

"Thank you." 

He nodded and turned to leave, and she returned to perusing the damage reports. A few moments later, she looked up just as he had reached her door. "Tuvok?" 

He stopped and faced her with his usual Vulcan stoicism. 

She lowered the PADD, resting it on her knees. "Did Commander Chakotay..." 

As usual, he knew her thoughts whether she spoke them aloud or not. "He informed me of your orders in the event the Delta Flyer failed to return." 

She nodded and looked away from his penetrating stare. "I see," she said simply. 

"I would have found it... difficult... to follow such an order." 

Her eyes were drawn back to him, warmth radiating from the blue orbs as a slight smile pulled at the corner of her lips in light of his subtle testimony of affection. "You did it once before," she observed. 

"I disobeyed that order." 

"True." She sighed and stood, moving to join him at the doorway. "I gave Chakotay that order because I didn't want you to waste time and put the crew at risk looking for us if we went missing... if we hadn't shown up at the rendezvous, chances are that it would have been because we'd been assimilated or killed." 

"And yet you chose to search for Voyager at your own peril." 

"What's that Vulcan saying? 'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few'? Risking a crew of four to save a crew of a hundred and forty should seem logical even to you, Tuvok." 

"I believe the reverse would seem logical to most of those one hundred and forty crewmembers as well, Captain, where you are concerned." 

"Probably, but it's not their call to make." She rested her hand familiarly on his arm. "You know I trust you and Chakotay to get my ship and my crew home if anything ever happened to me... come Hell or high water or Borg." 

Something flickered across his expression momentarily, but it was gone before she could identify it. In anyone else she would have called it guilt, but she knew Tuvok well enough to discount that possibility. 

"It is... good to have you back, Captain," he said finally. 

She smiled. "It's good to be back." 

"Goodnight, Captain." 

"Goodnight." 

He stepped through the ready room doors as they swished open, and as they slid shut again with a hiss a frown creased her features and she stared at the spot where she had last seen him for a very long time, trying vainly to determine what she had sensed that seemed out of place. She struggled fruitlessly, however, and shaking off the sensation she moved back towards the couch by the windows and resumed her inspection of the reports he had brought. 

"Computer, resume music." 

...... 

A smile broke out on Lieutenant Nicoletti's face as she saw Harry approaching her across Sickbay. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes." 

"Not enjoying your quality time with the Doc?" 

"I'd just like to get back to my own quarters." She registered his guilty expression and sat back with a thump on the inclined biobed. "Don't tell me..." she groaned. 

"Life support's down on deck eight," he admitted. "Chakotay said he'll arrange for you to share quarters with someone until we get it repaired." 

"So much for being back in my own bed." 

"It'll be my first priority after we get the essential repairs out of the way, I promise." 

"Thanks." 

"Anytime." 

He turned to leave, but she called after him when he was halfway to the door. "Harry?" 

When he turned around, her eyes remained fixed on her hands clasped in her lap for several seconds before she raised her gaze to meet his. "I never thanked you. For saving my life. If you hadn't pulled me away when you did, I would've been a permanent fixture of that debris." 

He glanced away uneasily. "You wouldn't have been down there in the first place if I hadn't made you come with me." 

"You didn't make me do anything." She smiled. "You were right. I did agree with you." 

...... 

_Captain's Log, Stardate 58497.3. Lieutenant Torres has succeeded in restoring our warp drive and key systems, along with the most serious damage Voyager has sustained over the past few months. We've left orbit and have resumed a course for the Alpha Quadrant at maximum warp. I think most of the crew is resting easier now that we're no longer a virtually defenseless target for the Borg, but I am determined to remain vigilant until we've put their space behind us for good... whenever that may be._

The scuffed and dirty toes of Harry Kim's Starfleet-issue boots crossed the threshold tentatively, treading on unfamiliar territory. Captain Janeway's quarters were disordered, a pile of rubble stacked against the wall and personal items piled haphazardly in another. A cursory sweep of the room suggested it to be empty until he heard a clang that was accompanied by a piece of bulkhead sailing from under the desk towards the debris piled against the opposite wall. 

"You wanted to see me, Captain?" 

Captain Janeway's head appeared from under her desk, her hair in disarray and her forehead streaked with a mixture of dirt and sweat. "Harry. Come in." 

He took two steps towards her and stopped again. 

"I'd offer you some coffee, or even a clean place to sit, but..." Her arm swung as she spoke, the arc of her hand encompassing her darkened replicator and overturned, blackened chairs. 

"Was there something you needed repaired?" he asked, still at a loss to understand his presence in her quarters. 

"No, just trying to get my quarters livable again," she said, tossing a stray piece of conduit into the growing junk pile as she moved out from behind the desk. "Seems like I've had to do this every month for the past.... well, suffice it to say I'm beginning to think I should just move into the ready room. Not that it's in much better shape." 

Harry raised an eyebrow and remained fixed in place as he waited for an explanation for his summons. 

The captain moved around her desk, rummaging around a toppled stack of PADDs. Finding her object, she held up a small box that fit in the palm of her hand. She blew on it, causing a swirl of heavy dust to lift off its surface, then rubbed it with her fingers in an effort to polish it. Her hands, however, were just as soiled as the small box and the end result was essentially a smearing of the layer of dirt covering the lid. 

"I've been waiting for a good time to give you this," she began, approaching him with the box, studying it intently. She tapped the lid with one finger, then extended it towards him. "But then I realized, there's no time like the present." 

He took the box gingerly, turning it over in his hands. 

"Open it," she prompted. 

Grasping the box with both hands, he wedged the lid open, stiff from dust in the hinges. Sitting inside on a cushion of slick black material was a single gold-plated pip. 

It felt like only a few seconds that he stared at it, mesmerized, but it must have been longer since the captain stepped forward and grasped the pip, affixing it to his collar. She affectionately brushed a smear of dust off his shoulder. "Congratulations, Lieutenant." 

He finally looked up from the now empty box in his hands. "Captain, I..." He swallowed. "I thought, after what happened on the away mission..." 

"You made a mistake, and hopefully you learned from it." Her hand, still on his shoulder, gave a reassuring squeeze. "Lessons like that are what are going to make you a fine captain someday." 

He rested his hand on top of hers. "Thank you, Captain." 

"You've earned it, Harry." She turned back to the destruction overpowering her living area. "Now, Lieutenant, how about giving your captain a hand in discovering what's become of her couch?" 

He smiled. "Yes, ma'am." 

..... 


End file.
